Leakage

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November 8, 2017 by adbesserer

I planned to write a post about coming home from Taiwan, and everything that’s been going on since then, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to do it today in combination with a post outlining some things that I’m learning about me. If you’re still reading, you must care, so thank you.

Okay, I loved Taiwan, or what little I saw of it. Regardless of how it turned out, I loved the culture, the scenery, and the people I met there. I didn’t feel, however, that I quite fit in. The things I wanted were at odds with the people I met at the dorm, and my lingering anxiety and depression were at odds with a culture that seems to value happiness and fortitude.

I went to China, and it was a mistake. I went to Taiwan, and, although I value the experience, it was probably a mistake too. I’m not better YET. In Taiwan, my medication was expensive, and I was on so many benzos just to deal with my anxiety that I couldn’t easily function at work, and I couldn’t tell anyone. Well,  I told my dorm mates probably too many times looking for likeness, but finding out that my thoughts were distorted and I needed help. I feel badly for the people who donated to get me there. I’m sorry if I let you down.

I didn’t have many options, so I came Home with a capital H. I haven’t lived in North Bay for 13 years, and now here I am. I thought when i got here that I could just brush myself off and get a job–wrong. My anxiety and depression brought on so many panic attacks that I started to day dream again about ending my life. I ended up back in the psych ward, except in my hometown, a small place with a long memory. I spent 5 days in the hospital while my friends brought me necessities and gave me their time until I could almost cope again.

Volta time, bitches. I rented a loft. It looks like where you’d picture a writer living, as a friend said. I have no furniture, but I’m used to sleeping on wood and floors by now. I’ll slowly rebuild and try again to “adult” and to carve a life in my own space.

Regression. I did something I wasn’t proud of today. I wasn’t tagged in a post that involved a group of my friends who are all married and have families. I felt left out, and I put up a stupid post about it on Facebook. I’m not going to remove the post because I don’t want to alter the narrative. I want to face myself and learn from this. Weird, right?

I am sad that I don’t have a partner and a family. I’m like most kids from fucked up situations; maybe, a part of me wants to prove that I can do better, or at least differently. And it turns out this biological clock thing is real. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to steal sperm, or marry someone I don’t love just to experience it. I partially, well, I’m starting to accept that it might not happen for me, and what that would mean. Still, I shouldn’t shit on my friends for excluding me from something I don’t understand, or am not a part of. I am sorry, but it hurts too.

Lots of things hurt right now. This place is a throbbing vein of memories for me, and not always good ones. I know that I’ve made so many people feel helpless because they can’t help me, and I’m sorry for that. I know that sometimes it makes people feel like they have to assume a sort of soft, clinical role around me, but they don’t. I’m poor, but I still can laugh when my best friend the doctor calls me with her “rich people problems”. I may have stumbled again, but I’m still trying. Through mindfulness, I find myself disconnecting from the broken, damaged, failure-laced narrative that I created. I just want to say not to worry about me. I’m fighting and learning, and starting over again.

 

 

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