Sunday, February 23, 2014
I'd like to say I'm sorry, Jim.
You were always nice to me, always thought of me with things like taking me to see Madness at the Troubadour, and I repaid you by allowing it all to happen. Some call it aiding and abetting. I didn't cause it, but I didn't help; I was an accessory. I was more concerned with my friend's needs than I was to yours... or even your marriage. It should not have happened like that.
Would it help if I told you she was going to do it anyway? That nothing I said would have changed much - didn't change much- save for the fact that she wouldn't have had an alibi?
I'm sorry for the betrayal, I'm sorry for my part in it. I was only trying to save her when she seemed so lost because she had always done the right thing... because she thought she had to be the Good Girl. I was trying to help her embrace her whole self - her true self - all of her, which include the bad bits. When we own up and embrace our faults and the ugly bits, then we can be happy because we can completely be ourselves. That's what I wanted for her; I wanted her to stop doing what she thought she was supposed to do and just be her.
... but not like that. Or rather, I knew you were a casualty of it and you had to be, ... but not like that.
For that, I'm sorry.
*A Choppy Yet Sincere Apology is a title of a Riverboat Gamblers song I actually find quite... true for my life. I wish I'd come up with such a good title for apologies I've had to make or will never actually make. You can find it here.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Remember this one?
It's back.
RIGHT when I could see things a little clearer, felt I could start telling the light from the dark, I have another episode (I even had a post I was working on about the clarity). A pretty major episode.
This time not only did it affect the boyo, but it affected the family. I was yelling, slamming doors and wailing, not even considering anyone else in the house nor their schedules. I feel so ashamed I want to banish myself to a very dark corner somewhere.
That's not very responsible, however. So I will clean up my mess, talk to the ones I hurt, and reanalyze how I'm coping and how to stop this. I at least hope to learn to stop how it unleashes on others; that one is key.
I NEED to!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Day 2 of not being able to sleep well. I blame the manic. My therapist thinks I just have too much in my head and no idea how to express it. We had a good session yesterday, but like all sessions, there's too much to say and never enough time. I could talk for hours. She thinks I'm overly tired and, like a kid who wants to stay up, not allowing myself to sleep.
I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the manic.
Well, I don't miss the waking up at between 3 and 4 in the morning with my mind racing faster than I can shake the sleep off. It's like someone talking while you're sleeping that creeps into your dreams, then becomes something you're this shy of understanding between sleeping and waking until you're fully awake and trying to make sense of it all.
I do miss the writing at night as I follow a thought into a story into a sleepless night with something to show for it. I miss the 3 to 4 hour conversations with Stephen until the wee hours of the morning. I miss the feel of everything that comes over me at night. I miss the direct connection to the lifeline.
Basically, it's hard for me to see my life in the midst of all this routine and I'm told I'm not supposed to really have one. I'm supposed to be resting, supposed to be learning how to cope with this, supposed to be getting used to the here and now so that the episodes aren't so bad later. It makes me miss the manic.
In writing all this out, though, I can see the problem with it. I can remember the nights where it was too much, an overload of information, ideas and emotions. The feeling that I would burn with the rawness of it all.
I think through this routine I'm starting to resurface and question what was and what I will do with all of this. I'm at a crossroads, in a sense. Do I fight the old way or do I learn how I might be able to incorporate it into the new?
I think it's pretty obvious but old habits die hard.
What would an angel say
the devil wants to know...
Fiona Apple
I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the manic.
Well, I don't miss the waking up at between 3 and 4 in the morning with my mind racing faster than I can shake the sleep off. It's like someone talking while you're sleeping that creeps into your dreams, then becomes something you're this shy of understanding between sleeping and waking until you're fully awake and trying to make sense of it all.
I do miss the writing at night as I follow a thought into a story into a sleepless night with something to show for it. I miss the 3 to 4 hour conversations with Stephen until the wee hours of the morning. I miss the feel of everything that comes over me at night. I miss the direct connection to the lifeline.
Basically, it's hard for me to see my life in the midst of all this routine and I'm told I'm not supposed to really have one. I'm supposed to be resting, supposed to be learning how to cope with this, supposed to be getting used to the here and now so that the episodes aren't so bad later. It makes me miss the manic.
In writing all this out, though, I can see the problem with it. I can remember the nights where it was too much, an overload of information, ideas and emotions. The feeling that I would burn with the rawness of it all.
I think through this routine I'm starting to resurface and question what was and what I will do with all of this. I'm at a crossroads, in a sense. Do I fight the old way or do I learn how I might be able to incorporate it into the new?
I think it's pretty obvious but old habits die hard.
What would an angel say
the devil wants to know...
Fiona Apple
;;
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