It’s
been a few weeks since I last wrote, well about eight really.
A
lot has happened I suppose, most of you know I did another Lord Lucan. Phone
turned off for 10 days, no communication with the outside world. Not sure what
inspired this one, think it was El having an interview and not getting the job,
I started to blame myself, I’d caused this whole situation, so I ran.
Not
literally obviously, although I did start looking at buying a barge £60k, or
emigrating to Iceland or New Zealand. 200000 EUR will get you a nice remote
spot outside of Reykjavik and I’m still under the age limit of 55 for New
Zealand although the transferable skills may cause an issue.
It’s
good to see I wasn’t completely wasting my days. As I’ve probably said before
the problem with running away is that wherever I go, whatever I do, I’m still
there. Not talking to other people is purely a by-product of the self-loathing.
I
spiraled pretty badly in reality, drinking, taking sleeping pills and when they
ran out herbal ones with prescription codeine that I knew would knock me out. I
started going to bed at 7 just so that another day was over.
The
longer my phone was off the harder it was to turn it back on, having to face
people again is tough when you start seeing things rationally. You know you’ve
been a dick, admitting it to others isn’t that easy. I’d lied to friends and
family telling them I’d lost my phone, resorting to emailing birthday wishes to
a couple of people.
It
was nice having my phone off and I did think how great it would be to never
turn it back on, unfortunately for you lot I didn’t go through with it and
contrary to a few texts waiting for me I wasn’t dead.
Since
I turned it back on things have improved, it’s very odd. By rights they
shouldn’t have.
Last
weekend I had my Dad’s birthday and the unveiling of his headstone, a ceremony
my Mum in her infinite wisdom arranged for Father’s Day. I’m sure if I’d have
asked him last year it wouldn’t have been the present he’d have requested but
it’s what he got and it was way more expensive than the socks I annually bought
him.
I’m
not religious at all, I don’t get it and probably never will. I have no issue
with people that do, everyone’s free to make their own choices. The headstone
ceremony was a religious affair and the first time I’d been back to the
cemetery since the funeral. To be honest I’d be dreading it (no shit Sherlock)
but I got through it. I was numb to it all and didn’t cry. Mum was in pieces,
not sure she appreciated me asking her to pick out a plot and a headstone she
liked while we were there. Thought I might as well be practical she’s the one
that’s got to live with it, or not as it goes.
The
things that meant the most to me over that weekend were the messages of support from
friends new and old and going to the pub after with El, Mum and some of my
closest pals. A few drinks and talking utter bollocks was exactly what I needed.
The
crying thing is odd, I’m not sure if it’s the pills that stop the emotion or if
I simply wouldn’t have cried anyway. I felt like I should but that could be me
over analysing as usual. It’s not that I don’t cry, I’ve been known to shed the
odd tear, I remember as a kid crying at an episode of My Two Dads and it wasn’t
because the programme was the comedy equivalent of a hate crime.
I
spoke to my therapist and doctor about the non-crying and the pills but we’re
sticking with them, benefits outweighing the negatives and all that.
‘I
spoke to my therapist’ what a line – I’ve always wanted to be Woody Allen looks
like I’m edging ever closer, though I have no intention of marrying a relative
whether they’re blood or not.
Maybe
I’m feeling better because of some form of closure. To me it is an odd concept,
I don’t think I’ll ever have closure about my Dad, yes the ceremonial aspect is
over but that’s all.
I’ve
started a form of Mindfulness, managing to put aside my skepticism long enough
to give it a chance and wouldn’t you just know it I’ve found it helpful.
I
like it because it doesn’t tell you bad things won’t happen or that you’ll
never have a negative thought again. More that these things will happen and
it’s ok. Don’t spend days or weeks trying to fight them. Dad’s birthday was
going to make me sad, why spend the week before and after worrying about it?
I
know I’ve become everything I hate and self-flagellate nightly to make up for embarking
in self-help and pseudo spirituality.
The
last few days I’ve felt the ‘happiest’ I’ve been in over a year, it’s an odd
sensation. Let’s not get carried away, happiness to me is everyone else’s
general state of misery. But that’s the way l like it aha aha as the song goes.
My
concentration has improved and I actually managed to read a book, although the
choice of Bukowski probably isn’t the best for someone with my state of mind. I
feel like matching him drink for drink as I read and that won’t end well. Plus
quotes like – “It was true that I didn’t have
much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I
mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man
enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress,
force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a
place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked
to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?” do nothing to improve my thoughts
toward finding a job.
Anyway enough waffling for now, I
can’t promise I won’t disappear again but I’m starting to be ok with feeling a
little ‘better’, so make the most of me while I’m still around.
Ax
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