More than ever before, I have been keeping my disturbing emotions to myself. In the process, I've made a mess of things on several occasions. This is the pattern; I get fed up with being "bottled up", overindulge in [insert vice here], let myself be abused, abuse myself, go to sleep and start all over again the next day. It was because of this vicious, self-deprecating cycle, I finally "lost it". So much so, that a couple of short months ago, I found myself handcuffed to a hospital bed with a sarcastic, racist cop overseer, that I verbally abused all night. Trust me, he had it coming. Yeah, I'm not kidding. Side Note: As sad is it was for me to find myself there, there were quite few comical stories from the experience. (I'm sure I'll expound on those stories with the ones that know me best.) But truthfully, I'm tired of just scraping by psychologically. I'm worn out. I need to do something different. As fabulous as it was, I don't want my old life, I want a brand new one.
I recognize that one of my biggest problems is that I can't get outside of my own head sometimes. When I don't have a healthy outlet like this, I self-medicate and KA-BOOM! Explosions! Though I'm not sure how "healthy" it is to share my most intimate thoughts on social media. Oh well, it used to help, maybe it can again. Without my fairly frequent, yet calming, bursts of grade A road rage to purge my pinned up emotions, I'm a walking basket case. Who knows, 'putting it all out there' used to help, I'm SURE it can again. At this point, I'm willing to try just about anything.
So, as I work on getting myself together and on getting my writing chops back, I think I'll conclude here. Wow, gloomy weather, depression and all-around internal despair and in just a few key strokes, I already feel better. And to think, I didn't even have to honk my horn, cut anybody off in traffic or shoot the bird as a scream obscenities from my truck. The wonders of blogging never cease to amaze.
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