gimme shelter

or gimme somethin'. anything. as they are prone to say in my world, sometimes I need a revelation. sometimes it's all too much to take -

and that sometime, my sweet furry friends, is now.

this tends to happen every time work slows down. I get all kinds of broke, I have way too much time on my hands, and I begin inspecting (and completely dismantling) my entire life. nothing's right. nothing fits. and it seems like if I just had a bunch of money, new hair, and a new wardrobe, that everything would be fine.

that is not, nor will it ever be, the case. that stuff doesn't fix anything.

see, I'm surrounded by all these musicians and uber-creative types. the kind of people that don't work a day job and sit around and make music all day. the kind of people that - well, in my case, make me second guess my entire existence. I'm not doing enough, I'm not creating enough, I'm just in my safe little bubble of new haven and some occasional good photographs. I'm not leaving an impression on the world. I'm going to be forty (in eleven years) and I've never gone to school or felt good about myself for more than thirty days in a row without wondering whether or not I'm really okay, or just kidding myself. I buy things to feel better about myself. I gained six pounds and I think I'm obese. and so on, and so forth.

and I can't stop sleeping.

then, as I type all of this out, it seems fairly ridiculous. I am somebody. I've done important things, if not just for me. I wasted almost ten years getting drunk and high and annihilating my entire life, and it turned me into who I'm supposed to be. I got sober and after two years was in a committed relationship, married and owned a house after three. come the fourth year, surrounded by everything I've ever thought I wanted, I realized it wasn't enough and took care of myself leaps and bounds more than I ever have in my life. I left. I got rid of stuff. and now, another year and a half later, I'm more myself than I've ever been. I'm (hopefully) turning into the me I've always been meant to be, and on the days I'm not, at least I'm heading in the right general direction. I know these things, they're not things I was told by someone else and then had to convince myself that I believed. they just are.

so why, then, the state of diress? today I'm a broke almost forty year old who's feeling nuts, trying not to take it out on her relationships, and wanting to crawl under her desk. to sleep. because the fourteen hours last night wasn't enough. I don't know how to be around people. I'm perpetually in the "I carried a watermelon?" state. I don't know how to communicate with my boyfriend, and I'm starting to wonder who the hell I thought I was for thinking I was ready and able to be in a relationship at all. I can't seem to get to work before 10 am. I have a cat and I live in one room and I'm just not enough. nothing seems like enough.

did I just mention the boyfriend thing? it's like I can't shake the holidays. I'm crying at the drop of a hat, among a multitude of other behaviors. and where I used to be all, oh, he won't like me if he knows I'm crazy, I'm more look, I am kind of crazy, and you don't have to be okay with it, but this is just how I am right now. and he's been nothing but patient and understanding, but, I just - I want to say here that I want to be who I really am around him, but I'm doing that. I guess a part of me is like, look, no, I'm really good, there's so much more to me than all this crying and diress - but I just need you to stick it out, and then I feel like who am I for asking someone to stick it out. hey, guy I've been dating for three months, sorry I'm out of my mind. but ride it out, willya? I'll come around at some point. promise.

(sigh.)

is this manic, or seasonal displacement, or what? I'm either on the hamster wheel, or I'm asleep.

hopefully it's just pms.

~vvb