So for those of you who haven’t been with me since the beginning of this blog (which is all of you because NO ONE was with me at the beginning, it was just me muttering to myself in the dark): this blog, as per its title, is a biography of sorts documenting my journey from a dark place of self-destruction, anger, and confusion to a place somewhere in the future where I will be happy and peaceful and optimistic and able to love myself. The key word in this description is JOURNEY. Journeys are very rarely straight lines from point A to point B. Journeys are full of twists and turns and soaring ascensions and disastrous pitfalls.
So after two years of glorious upward progress and optimism, I have now reached the top of the hill and am beginning a steady head over heels tumble down the other side. Now is the beginning of the dark times so hang in there sports fans, you’re about to follow me on a bumpy semi-psychotic ride.
So…what to say? I suppose I should try to describe to you all where I’m at right now, emotionally speaking?
I feel like I was walking steadily along a pleasant country lane, my destination just beginning to appear on the horrizon, when I was suddenly attacked by a faceless figure from a tree above. This figure then proceeded to blindfold me, bind my hands behind me, then spin me around for awhile until I started to black out and then set me free like some viscious and terrifying game of pin the tail on the donkey. Now I am blind and defenseless, stumbling clumsily around in an unknown direction, just praying I don’t fall in a ditch and break my neck.
I swear I had a clear destination in mind, a clear goal…but I’m so confused and disoriented that I can’t remember what it was. I feel like I’m all the way back at square one with a million paths laying out in front of me and not the faintest idea what to choose…
A week ago I was dead set on a career in psychology. I was looking at classes, reading books, and even shadowing a psychologist. I had been settled on this career choice for months. Now that feels like eons ago. Now I’m back to having no clue what I want to do. I’m considering psychology still, and english, and sociology, and folklore, and now I’m even looking into baking. Hell, maybe I’ll give art another try.
A week ago I was fully confident in my future with Mike. We were gonna support eachother through a year and half of this long distance bullshit, then I was gonna get out and go to florida to be with him and then sit down and start figuring out my next move. We would spend some time just enjoying being able to fall asleep next to eachother every night, and eventually when it felt right we would get married. I would tailor my career plans to allow us to travel wherever the military feels like sending us and eventually when we’re done having fun and being rebellious, we would have kids. Now I have no idea if we’ll even last to Christmas. And I’m terrified that if we do last long enough to move in together, our relationship won’t get any better, and we’ll have struggled all this time for nothing. And I’m even more terrified that if that happens we’ll end up keeping an awful relationship going just because we’ve put too much effort and time into it to let it die.
He told me today he was worried I was giving up on dreams and goals in order to be able to follow him. The truth is even worse. It terrifies me that I don’t even have any dreams to give up for him. I have no goals, no stars to guide me, my compass is blank. All I know is that where I am is wrong. What I’m doing is wrong. This is not where I am meant to be and this is not what I am meant to be doing. But I’m not allowed to go anywhere else and I don’t know what else I can do. All I know is I am desperate for a change, any change. Maybe cutting my hair will help these feelings of panic and unease go away, maybe it won’t help at all and will just be the first of many acts of destructive behavior.
Some more terrifying thoughts that come spiraling out of the dark behind this blindfold:
What if the only reason I’m trying so hard to make things work with Mike is because he’s all I have? My family is too caught up in their own insane bullshit to help me. I can’t be alone, I’ll go into a downward spiral so fast and so twisted it’ll knock your socks off. I don’t have any REAL friends, the kind of friends that are always there for you to give you a couch to crash on and to help you remember who you are.
All I have is Mike. If I lose him I will be all alone in the world.
All I have to look forward to in my future is getting out of the military and the only way I can do that is if I know that Mike will be there to take care of me.
Even though our relationship is insane and full of fighting, Mike is the only decent thing I have going on in my life. But is that a good enough reason to be with someone? If I had a job I cared about and wasn’t living in a city I despise, would I still want to be with him? Am I only with him because I’m terrified that if I don’ t have him as a boyfriend I won’t have him in my life at all and that will be the end of the one light point in my world and from then on all will be dark and ruined?
This is not the first time I’ve had thoughts like this. Every guy I’ve ever broken up with has been pretty much for the same reason: I enjoy being with them, but I don’t feel like I have good enough reasons to be with them so I dump them for some abstract greater good. Is that wrong? Or is it sensible?
I’m so confused.
I’m so lost.
I’ve completely lost my bearings and I feel my footing slipping.
I’m desperate for the world to stop spinning and for me to just find something, anything, to stick my pin in and cling to.