Nothing Much

I hardly ate yesterday, and I didn't sleep at all last night. Every once in a while I go a bit mad. I've been exceptionally angry recently. It's really a little crazy. How am I even still alive. I observe these thoughts of self-destruction -- far more frequent than they used to be. It occurs to me for example that I own a gun. No risk, I think -- I'm too stubborn to give up. And no great crisis in my life, to merit anything cowardly.

I find though that I just don't believe anything at all. Oh sure, my grand principles and theories and worldview, but people, and what they say -- just don't believe it. A family member complained with some affect that I used to be more human, and wanted to get into an argument. I had self-control and stayed rational. That's not very human. Oh, I'm so very perfect, it was said. No, I am deeply flawed, but am I the topic of this discussion? I just can't have patience with the dishonesty, sneaking scheming lies -- one can't show contempt for family members, but one might feel it.

And part of the loop is the conviction that I am completely unable now to have what is in contemporary parlance called a committed relationship. Sort of a shame, given my need to give and to receive tenderness, not to mention a libido undiminished from my adolescence. How did I get stuck with this body, and that family? We are too blessed, to be so cursed.

It is my belief that I was molested as a very young child. No memories, but I was always sexualized, and that's not normal. And then I became highly repressed. I wish I knew why. Ah well. It's an easy excuse, and a good theory to explain this pervading, consuming inability to trust. And this rage. And this wasted potential, and life.

God saves us through human interaction, and by inspiring us to useful work. I have a few friends, now, although I don't think I am a very good friend. You have to take me for what I am. That's sort of selfish. Well, normality is a skill, and skills take practice. Give me time, and have patience. Like I did, when I was a father. As for work, well, even I don't know what I do for a living.

My point? Well that's a problem.


J