Another Day in Paradise

I wrote recently about the need to reboot and to reset my Self. About the need to have a bit of a retreat and to allow the indulgence of self-care and self-focus and attention with the intention being to actually make me, my priority. Not only that, but to give me a chance to reconnect with who I am… that being lost in the shuffle of the last couple of years while dealing with grief and eventually depression.

The utter frustration that sits with me now daily comes from seeing the glimpses and feeling the energy of my Self and just as fleetingly seeing and feeling it retreat again, swallowed up by waves of depression and walls of grief that hit me hard enough to knock me back onto my ass… over and over again.

That frustration that, for me, turns inward to anger and hatred. Self-loathing that encompasses my thoughts and at times, my actions. Choosing seclusion as an answer to the question in my mind of how to re-balance my Self. Knowing that no matter how much support I draw from those that I love, it’s the energy and support that I will find within me that is going to make the difference.

Having spent 3 days off from work last week in an attempt to stall the crash that I could feel coming I chose to try the option of an at-home retreat. 3 days dedicated to me and my care and attention. Finances right now don’t allow for me to do what I know I need to – distance and solitude and being gone from “home”… neutral environment, nature based… away from everything. So the option I chose was attempting that but at home…. I can safely say that was a bust. Sure, it was nice to not go to work for a few days and have a relaxed schedule but being in my home, surrounded by the nuances of my day to day life…feeding the cats, changing the litter box, shopping for groceries and getting gas for the car. Still answering work emails and phone calls remotely… not exactly the disconnect I needed to achieve what was necessary.

So I sit here now, finishing up my “retreat” and my rest and dreading work tomorrow. Feeling defeated and beaten down by it all – again. Feeling like I failed – again – at doing what I needed to do.
It has been feeling more and more lately like the way it was last year at this time. The mask goes on in the morning and it’s a fight all day to push through and focus and be “ok”. And I do it – so well that almost no one has any idea what’s under the mask. Then it’s back home and the sheer amount of energy it has taken to carry that mask and wear it all day leaves me depleted to the point that I have nothing left to be there for myself… nothing left to try to store up and rebuild what’s been lost… I have just enough left to be able to drag out of bed in the morning and slip on the mask and count the hours until I can take it off and rest.

I long for this to be over and for it to be better. I want nothing more than to wake up and want to face the day. To look forward to events rather than forcing myself because I *have to* or because I *should*. Yes, I have sparks of that now… but they are so few and so distant from each other. It’s not “me”. This isn’t who I am at my base level. I miss “me”. The dilemma being that I can fake “me” outstandingly well. After all, I now me pretty well. But I can’t fake it to myself for very long… and deep down, I know it’s an act.

This is one reason I have, and continue to, isolate myself from friends and from those who would like to be more to me than friends. They see the glimpses of me that I can pull together for short periods… but I can’t sustain a relationship – even a friendship – if it means me keeping that up… right now there’s still too much time spent re-charging … and no one wants or deserves to be with someone like me – someone who can’t make arrangements because I never know if I’ll be up to what I planned. I have lost one of the integral “me” parts – I have always been reliable and trustworthy… I now look at myself and see someone who can’t be trusted to follow through with a date or with plans… someone who may want to – with all my heart – but just can’t. And “can’t” was NEVER part of my vocabulary.

Shame and self-hatred surrounds the knowledge that people who used to care about me and be close to me now barely even touch base because of my patterns of behaviour. Knowing that I have no one to blame but myself for choosing to be isolated and distanced now. I try every now and then to make an attempt but then after a day or two, or a couple of outings, I run out of steam. I seclude a bit and retreat and everyone else just keeps going and I’m here, alone still… but by my choosing. It starts a cycle that makes me wonder if maybe I should just remove myself entirely from my social circle… it’s getting smaller and smaller as it is anyways.

I have some who are adamant that I can just be who and how I need to be and that’s all that matters. No expectations, no demands, no “standards” to meet. I appreciate that but the vast majority of those people are gone from my life… I have turned down coffee dates and walks and movies and… the list goes on. It’s my fault, not theirs. I have a surprisingly lonely and quiet life for someone who, on the surface has so many “friends”. The reality is that beyond 2 people in my life, I see and socialize with no one. Sure the odd group get together – that leaves me walking away feeling more alone and secluded and ostracized than ever, knowing that I don’t connect with any of them the way they connect to each other. SO I have slowly started to avoid even the group get togethers. Again, not their fault, all mine.

No real answers… no pretty way to tie up the musing and rambling… no hopeful quip that ends on a bright note. That’s not how life feels for me now. Not going to fake it for writing. I’m doing enough of that in person.

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One thought on “Another Day in Paradise

  1. I am sorry for what you are going through. I usually write things to inspire, but because I am suffering from depression – I can’t say anything like that. I relate very much because I also prefer to avoid being with people. It’s definitely a pretending thing and in my mind I feel tortured. I long to be my own best friend, and often am my worst enemy. I pray for a brighter day for both of us. Memories of carefree times are what I long for but sadly wonder if those days will ever be possible again. Keep writing.

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