I need help.
The last few years I've been pushing along mostly totally on my own. Made some new friends, travelled around, worked in different places doing random different things. And now I am realizing, I still have not successfully (to my satisfaction) taken care of the responsibilities in my life I want to.
I am constantly late on rent. My bills go long. I am unemployed. Art is basically non-existent. I have teeth that I want to keep and need to spend about $4000.00 to get healthy. When I left to pursue my fortune, as it were, my intentions were to 'see what I was made of'.
I worked for about a year before freaking out because I was living beyond my means. So-left SF, lived in my truck and tried to find a life that I loved. Along the way, my health started to turn. Specifically, my dental health. And it's been two years since that began and I am realizing, nothing I want would be worth having if it included having it while my teeth still feel as they do. Swollen, cavities, root canals.
And...I fucking hate going to the dentist. Something about just how fucking vulnerable it feels. Having a complete (though certified and educated) stranger put sharp objects into my mouth and carve, cut, grind and poke me while I lay back and trust they are doing right. And most of the time, the anxiety is manageable. Occasionally, they hit a nerve, poke a sensitive spot or probe somewhere and I wince. And I remember, I PROMISED myself, when I had a tooth removed years ago, that I would never, NEVER feel that again. And yet, I go days sometimes, now, without brushing, flossing, anything.
Neglect. My favorite thing to hate.
Neglect. Entropy takes root, decay, death.
So I'm now thinking thoughts about my mental health, about how I want to see this through. I'll do whatever I have to do to move through this and be on the other side of it- My being satisfied with my own life. That I meet my responsibilities to my own satisfaction. What does that mean? I don't know, but I do know that I need help and I cannot do it alone. I am going to have to be willing to accept advice, assistance and care from places and people I may not want to accept. But I cannot do this alone. I am proving that to myself. I resent that I am not stronger, but I am not.
I still do not have what I envisioned I would.
A good life, after Justine. A car, a job, a girlfriend, good health, a home. A fucking home. I haven't felt like I was 'home' since I left.
I have to create it myself.
No shortcuts.
Do the work.
And in that, I need help. Because I honestly don't know if I can even do the work. I wiggle, wrestle and shake from responsibilities as readily as a crack head gives head for a rock. I resent being 'tied down' and yet, without the vast amount of support that Justine provided to my life, I am without a net. I have to submit to the normal way, to normalize, or I will fall through the cracks. I can already feel it happening. The contextualization of being on the road in a Kerouac-esque mode falls apart because I am doing the easy thing: giving up, again. Being lazy and not buckling down. For myself.
So, I am going to let this recent thing play out. Go visit Vicki's grave. Do my ritual goodbye. And then go up to Santa Barbara to see friends. From there, I am thinking things will become clearer. I will be in touch with my family again. I have enough unemployment income coming in to feed myself, tend to any immediate dental concerns, help out Keelan with his bus, and go from there.
I set some really lofty intentions and some basic intentions. At the very least, I want for my basic intentions to get handled.
I forsee a day someday, relatively soon, where I am living on my own, have a dog, am fit, healthy and working hard in my career and am at peace. I have a routine and am happy, on a basic level, again. I was there before, I will get there again, someday.
But I need help. I may start using antidepressants. Whatever I need to do. See a counselor again. The fact that I don't pay back money I borrow fucks with me. The fact that I cannot hold down even a simple job, fucks with me. The fact that I am broke, going to be homeless again and am still trying to find a way to survive- fucks with me.
If all this is, is emotional/mental health imbalance, then I'll be grateful. I do know that feel way too much for my liking. Everything seems to get in, especially when I am stressed out. And I am not so prideful as to see that my way hasn't fucking worked. I am not 'getting it done'. I have even less to show for all my effort than I did 3 years ago, when I had barely anything then.
If I am really am just going to turn out like my Vicki did, then so be it. That'd be fine-if it's out of my control. But the one thing I know she should have done, that I am uncertain whether she ever did do, is seek help. Trust people, ask for help and feel compassion for herself.
Anyway, I know I am capable of self-discipline. In the past, I have used it to master certain skills. The last few years have been harder than I ever imagined it would be, and yet, I think that I have learned a lot from it all. I still have a lot I want to do in life. Things and places I want to see. I can take my time and do what I can, when I can.
For now, as in today, I have all of $10, need a pack of cigs, have about 3-4 pieces of bread and about enough coffee for one more cup. No sugar. I had to steal some of Keelan's this morning. I have a tab at the A & Sons market. I owe them $27.00 already. Hopefully tomorrow, I get my next Unemployment check. If not maybe Saturday.
We are very close to calling quits on this place. Which will free up, temporarily, some liquid cash that I can eat with again. But I will be homeless. And that will add additional stress.
For some wierd reason, I have this sense that after I travel south, it will all work out somehow. Like the struggle will be over. I am done struggling.
