Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Dear Diary,

Perhaps it's the CBD
Or perhaps

Autumnal blues have arrived.

I'm getting lots of flashbacks lately. I'm also feeling very emotional.

I feel a lot more love for T, and I've told her that. I'm a shitty boyfriend.

I've been worrying about things. My parents have been doing something recently which is scaring me abit. They are saying things like: this next car we buy will possibly be our last, so lets make it a good one. They are pulling out all their assets from their stocks and shares accounts.

I'm thinking about them, I'm thinking about them as a couple, knowing that their time together is nearing some kind of inevitable end. It feels unbearable not for me but for mum and dad individually. I'm also worrying about...my relationship has broken down with certain people in my family.

I have been a real dick and ...it's caught up to me. I've been such a dick that I could have ruined my career, I've ruined my career if I ever wanted to go into politics or public affairs; I could have ruined my brother in law, sister and brother's lives with the stupidity of my life and my careless hubris (careless hubris..not a George Michael Song I know of).

In the shattered mirror of my decisions, I don't think that I can put things together as they once were. I fear I may not be able to put them together again. I fear that things have happened (some by me, some by wider  family) have split the family forever.

I have a continual night terror. That of being alone, of dying alone, of having no kids and no marriage and once I'm gone, nobody is there to mourn me. The horror is when I wake up as well as experiencing the dream. When I wake up, I'm young-ish and not an old man, and I am not in that position yet, but I feel I'm slowly and inexorably drifting towards what seems like a foregone conclusion.

A couple of things make me realise that things are not well in my mind and in my life. My room is a fucking sty. I keep receipts, plastic bags, cutlery, books, books, review books, books i've bought, notebooks, coins, cardboard boxes, unopened christmas presents, clothes from my 20s that no longer fit me, clothes rom my 30s that I recently bought on impulse. Basically I'm a hoarder. It's really making an adverse affect on my life.

Something else made me realise that things are not well. There was a trigger on sunday afternoon. I'm not going to say what it was. It was seemingly innocuous, but when it happened in my room, I felt unsafe. I felt almost a panic mode. My mind went to fight or flight, and I did flight. I lay in my bed and put on some mindless youtube videos just to pretend like I'm doing something. I'm scared. Things scare me - unexpected sounds, sirens, loud motorcycles, people whose behaviour or motives I cannot immediately understand, the uncertainty of the future, getting rid of things, not getting rid of things, getting new things without getting rid of things, getting new things and getting rid of things, not getting things and neither getting rid of things nor not getting rid of things.... it's exhausting.

I want to cry but I don't know what to say, I don't know what the feeling or thought is directed to. At work today I felt on the verge of tears and I didn't know why.

I realised something lately: I've been working at The Sentinel for 5 years now. Yes, it is true that I wasn't on contract for 5 years or on permanent staff. But it has been 5 years associated with that paper. I see the veterans of the paper, I think I am one of them now. I also think about the people who were once there who I saw as the veterans and no longer are there. I also think about how my position has changed. I see the perky but wet behind the ears temps who sometimes work here. I want to say something like: I was where you were once...but that is patronising and irrelevant and unhelpful to them.

I'm not that person anymore and that person is not relevant to their situation. My situation is relevant to their situation and my situation is that I am a bit more senior and experienced and knowledgeable in the company, and not a wet behind the ears casual. I have serious responsibilities and I look after a headcount of about 70 - at any given point, someone is at paternity/maternity, jury duty, bereaved or getting married. I feel the heaviness of their lives. One person told me that they didn't expect their mother to live through the year. They didn't. I see the heaviness of other people's lives. I have my own heaviness. I try not to bring my personal self into work, but when I sit with people after a while, it just necessarily rubs off.

I think that the CBD oil is taking effect. My mind is slowly cooing to a restful pause. It feels more organic than sedative drugs.

I should also say: I've started talking to Mia again.

Don't worry I'm not purging.

But...I need Mia right now. I need a woman who scares me. I need a woman who gets inside my head that I can't do cute flirty talk with. I need a mirror. I need to suppose truth is a woman.

I need my past. I feel like I've forgotten myself. 

Ignore that last thing I said - that's not true.

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