Sitting in the Murrayville pub, wishin the words I want to come would just appear to me but they are being more stubborn than I. CJ is just settling down to sleep knowing that I’m illogically mad at her for something out of her control. Delusional thinking is a serious pain in the ass sometimes, especially when you know for a fact that it is doing damage to the psyche of others, those you care about perhaps more than you ever have before.
I don’t often suffer from delusional thinking or at least often recognize it when it’s happening so today is a rarity for me. For some reason I am having antagonistic feelings towards CJ for her not being here today when it’s physically impossible for that to happen. So I’m at the pub, drinking and writing, trying to relax myself and forget the irrational thoughts running through my head. It’s not working, as of yet. My fingers are shaking like scared puppies and simply typing these words is quite difficult.
I don’t like it when I lose control of myself like this. It’s frightening to me to lose control of my brain and it becomes a nearly terrifying reminder of just how broken, how sick I actually am. I’d rather exist under the delusion that I can function in society without thoughts like this running through my mind, trying to control me. I understand that I’m sitting here getting a buzz deciding which delusions are helpful and which are damaging and I understand just how crazy that may seem, that may be. But, In these situations, I can’t see another way out.
I recently threw my hat in the ring for a front end management position at the new gastropub going in next to the movie theatres in Walnut Grove and although I knew I wouldn’t get it, and likely couldn’t do it even if by some miracle I did get it, it felt good to pretend for a day or so that I was approaching a normal mental state; one that could actually hold down a job and contribute to society. Instead, I sit here trying to survive another day without causing irreparable damage to the people I care about. The delusion of me being normal is fun when it hits but I can never hold on to it for long, the reality of my life eventually tears me away from what I want to face what I am.
I have tried to live my life as one based solely on truth since my first near suicide attempt and the occasional realization that no matter how truthful I am with others I am constantly lying to myself kicks me in the crotch. I don’t like how it makes me feel and, even more, I don’t like how it makes me behave. Denial is a terrible and dangerous way in which to live one’s life.
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3:56 am
I was asleep by 9:30 last night, perhaps a record for me in these last few stress filled years. I had dreams I remember. One filled with super heroes hooking up in the hotel I was staying in. Another was of me trying to book a flight to London which I could not use due to me not having a passport. I ended up trading the flight with someone who was on stand by and had them pay for me to take a trip to Winnipeg instead. Now, I don’t put a lot of stock in the idea that our dreams are sending us messages but I do believe that occasionally they are filled with random pieces of our day we just had, especially the thoughts or ideas which were taking up most of our time.
On july 1st, our province moved into a new phase of our COVID response allowing domestic travel but still restricting international travel. This meant that CJ would not be able to visit in September without having to go into weeks of quarantine, still keeping us apart even if she came. I am frustrated to no end by this and ended up projecting that emotion onto CJ. I love her and do not actually blame her for this, obviously, but unable to be mad at COVID itself or the government I was in danger of taking it out on her. To her amazing credit, CJ gave me a little space, the time I needed to figure out why I felt that way and what it all meant.
I really don’t deserve to have someone like her in my life.
