I felt good. Sometimes almost giddy. Those are not familiar feelings. I also felt very lonely. I usually do not feel lonely-not because I am surrounded by folks-but because I numb out not to feel lonely. I have learned that by being present I could feel the mass of my loneliness-I am 59-alone-living in a town anonymously-isolated-it is up to me to change that "state of being" but like a child I still "wait" for some other person to rescue me and make me happy-but it never happens. Odd I still wait.
I fell off the wagon again...a long destructive binge. I have been stoned since Friday September 28. It is now Oct, 8. Went to work as little as possible. Stopped working out. Ate what I wanted. Been hiding, numbing, disappearing, not showing up, sleeping, failing to medicate...I am again acting out. But it is so destructive and unhealthy. Kills me. Kills me. It is like a suicide slow but never the less deliberate. This feels familiar. I know this existence and it sucks. I hate it. Why do I keep returning to it? This where I feel ugly and ashamed of me just for existing. It is a most hateful place.
I will never win any prizes..all my youthful dreams unfulfilled. My usual game plan? Run. Run away from this physical place and your feelings. But your feelings come with you. You have to run away again to get away from the feelings that will come with you.I have fantasies lately of quitting, packing, cashing in 20K 401K and going home to Buffalo. Find a job back home. But home seems a tired place. And by the time I get to that thought I know I will never do that. But I will always want to.
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