Listening to MUSE
This is what I heard on the radio when I turned it on this morning, changing channels from one song to another, in this order; "What if God was one of us?", "Reach out (...) I'll be there", "You're never alone", "I gave her the dreams".
Well I sure hope You mean it, I could use some help with my living conditions.
Just got a note from a friend saying I was 'so right'; when a door closes a window opens for him. I doubt having said that so literally, but anyway. Everything I always tried to keep in mind to give me hope seems to work for him in a much faster way! Oh well, that's what happens with people who have walk-in-the-park lives, shouldn't surprise me. I see the advantages of my experience and background.
We talked on the phone last week, and I realised that what's such a given to me is foreign to him (trying to understand others and their motivations and pain, which causes an empathy that can't be turned off again). Which I understood. So I prefer my life. I think. But only in retrospect.
During a huge part of my life I would have given anything to be in anybody else's shoes, though now I wouldn't trade lives for anything. Too much work has been done. Besides, I want to see where this is going, where I'm headed. I want a happy ending to a gruesome story. I want something useful and good done with my life experiences.
I'm grateful for having friends with walk-in-the-park-lives; without them I wouldn't have had information to compare my information with. My little world would have seemed more real to me without them, they have been the white to my black. It made me hopeful and made me realise how relative everything is. There's as many worlds as there are people, change is possible, nice things do happen et cetera.
So this afternoon I had my last talk with the psychology lady, who was appropriately dressed in white as I was in black (I have a sweating-problem, so wearing black makes the most sense, it's not out of doom and gloom or anything). She kept the door open - figuratively - and said I could always make an appointment if I needed to talk about something real bad. I told her that was good to know, although most of the time this is where I turn to when I need to get stuff off my mind, and I told her about my taking up writing again, partly to substitute our talks (it has about the same effect).
Today another layer of stress has opened up, so I'm pretty scared about the neighbour situation. It's all fine and dandy that living in a pressure cooker speeds up the process lots, but it's moments like this I fear for my life. Not because I don't want to die, but rather the way in which. I'm not done yet. If lightning would strike me down, well, that's okay, I'll be fine with that, but I'd prefer not to be stabbed or get a Molotovcocktail thrown at my house or something like that by one of the neighbours. Just wanted to have that said. Would be nice if something had been done with all I went through before I die, is all I'm saying.
I'm scared today, it's a near full moon and near the monthly hassle so I shouldn't be defending myself like this, but I want to write down everything, if necessary, to write out the tension, get it off my hairy chest. I'm using the serial killer's autobiography to find echoes in me of the dark stuff in the book, to speed up the process even more. Sweat out all the old fears.
The past two days the anxiety on a deep level - in an unknown location somewhere in my belly - has been replaced by peace and relaxation, so a seed has been planted. Let it grow! Where before was continuous stress, now there is quiet and well, nothing. Feels new, feels weird and a little superficial, as if a person is only 'deep' when in a constant state of fear and desperation.
But it's true, I'm turning into an increasingly boring person. Happy, content people are all the same, they have the same characteristics, where everybody's pain and fear has a different face and story (and in that way is more interesting).
I hope to be extremely boring very very soon.
Well I sure hope You mean it, I could use some help with my living conditions.
Just got a note from a friend saying I was 'so right'; when a door closes a window opens for him. I doubt having said that so literally, but anyway. Everything I always tried to keep in mind to give me hope seems to work for him in a much faster way! Oh well, that's what happens with people who have walk-in-the-park lives, shouldn't surprise me. I see the advantages of my experience and background.
We talked on the phone last week, and I realised that what's such a given to me is foreign to him (trying to understand others and their motivations and pain, which causes an empathy that can't be turned off again). Which I understood. So I prefer my life. I think. But only in retrospect.
During a huge part of my life I would have given anything to be in anybody else's shoes, though now I wouldn't trade lives for anything. Too much work has been done. Besides, I want to see where this is going, where I'm headed. I want a happy ending to a gruesome story. I want something useful and good done with my life experiences.
I'm grateful for having friends with walk-in-the-park-lives; without them I wouldn't have had information to compare my information with. My little world would have seemed more real to me without them, they have been the white to my black. It made me hopeful and made me realise how relative everything is. There's as many worlds as there are people, change is possible, nice things do happen et cetera.
So this afternoon I had my last talk with the psychology lady, who was appropriately dressed in white as I was in black (I have a sweating-problem, so wearing black makes the most sense, it's not out of doom and gloom or anything). She kept the door open - figuratively - and said I could always make an appointment if I needed to talk about something real bad. I told her that was good to know, although most of the time this is where I turn to when I need to get stuff off my mind, and I told her about my taking up writing again, partly to substitute our talks (it has about the same effect).
Today another layer of stress has opened up, so I'm pretty scared about the neighbour situation. It's all fine and dandy that living in a pressure cooker speeds up the process lots, but it's moments like this I fear for my life. Not because I don't want to die, but rather the way in which. I'm not done yet. If lightning would strike me down, well, that's okay, I'll be fine with that, but I'd prefer not to be stabbed or get a Molotovcocktail thrown at my house or something like that by one of the neighbours. Just wanted to have that said. Would be nice if something had been done with all I went through before I die, is all I'm saying.
I'm scared today, it's a near full moon and near the monthly hassle so I shouldn't be defending myself like this, but I want to write down everything, if necessary, to write out the tension, get it off my hairy chest. I'm using the serial killer's autobiography to find echoes in me of the dark stuff in the book, to speed up the process even more. Sweat out all the old fears.
The past two days the anxiety on a deep level - in an unknown location somewhere in my belly - has been replaced by peace and relaxation, so a seed has been planted. Let it grow! Where before was continuous stress, now there is quiet and well, nothing. Feels new, feels weird and a little superficial, as if a person is only 'deep' when in a constant state of fear and desperation.
But it's true, I'm turning into an increasingly boring person. Happy, content people are all the same, they have the same characteristics, where everybody's pain and fear has a different face and story (and in that way is more interesting).
I hope to be extremely boring very very soon.
"Your past is over; it cannot touch you. Forgive all involved, including yourself. God specializes in new beginnings."
posted by M. at 8:56 PM
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