Therapy... hiring someone to listen to your shit, paying them a phenomenal amount of money to sit there nodding their head, taking some notes, perhaps occasionally repeating back to you something you've just said in order to demonstrate their attentiveness... but, for the most part simply allowing you to bumble along, taking as much billable time as you please to find your own way and your own answers... what can I say, it ain't for me.
Talking to friends; I rate it, at the very least it helps just to get stuff out of your own head and into someone else's. If you're lucky then your friends will continue to accept you, even though you're clearly not right, and if you're bloody charmed then you might have smart friends who can occasionally come back to you with some sound words of wisdom. I've got a friend I would desperately love to talk to, no doubt he'd have very insightful things to say... but he's like heroin to me and I'm without a doubt the worst kind of junky for him. There hasn't been a single day in the last 7 years that he hasn't casually strolled through my mind, leaving a tsunami of mental and emotional chaos in his wake... I don't know if I want to talk to him because its a good idea, or because I am just that hardup for any excuse to talk to him, about anything, even my own failures as a human being... yeah, at the end of the day, do you really want the love of your life knowing that you've probably ventured beyond the bounds of what your own psyche can handle and that you're essentially just assuming the mental equivalent of the foetal position without any fucking brilliant ideas or backup plans at hand... nope, its not a good look. Probably doesn't fit into your "maybe one-day he'll decide he fancies me again?" fantasy either. Yep, just cross that option off the list.
Blogging; also not really my style. I've given it a few tries over the years, but the problem I consistently run headlong into is that 6-months-post-blog-me usually holds a great deal of contempt for the me of 6 months prior. The obvious conclusion I can draw from that is that I must grow and develop so so much as a person in those unbelievably short spaces of time... No? Nah I'm not buying it either... So I'm left with... what... its me, I'm lying... always, to myself, to everyone around me. The lies I tell myself each day just to live with myself, to like myself, to get out of bed... apparently all those lies have a shelf-life, they obviously expire after enough time passes, and so I end up reading my own damn words and thinking "what the fuck?! You can't be serious... you were such a tool!" ... but when this happens over and over, eventually "were" becomes "are"... "Hey, you ARE such a tool, lady" my subconscious kindly points out to me, like a true friend laying down some brutal honesty for me.
I wouldn't recommend it unless you've got a good week or two to burn, but hey, if you ever just wondered to yourself what it might like to be a street person, to not bathe or eat or really do anything other than marinate in your own soup of self-pity and dejection, then may I invite you to engage in some deep reflection upon the lies you tell yourself... the things you convince yourself of regarding your career, your choices, the things you believe about your accomplishments, the things you've done to others, to hurt others... oh, and the very worst bastards of all, the lies you tell yourself about your failures, yeah... the excuses you make for yourself, the clever stories you have come up with to explain away how you haven't quite ended up where or who you planned to be... those are the lies that fare the worst over time.
...TBC, maybe.... also maybe TBD?
