irony

Despite a lack of severe "problems" in my world, I have had some recent instances of difficulty maintaining my resolve to be happy. Thankfully I've been reading a book off and on called "The Power Of Intention" by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer. A very good friend gave me the book, which is one of those that you can usually open up just about anywhere and get an answer to a question you sometimes didn't even know you had. Or maybe answer and question are the wrong words? It's more like affirmation to things you're not sure you know.

Anyway, tonight is turning out to be a tough night for my thoughts. Actually, this week has been a bit tough for me and it's just finally hitting me hardest tonight - which is good, because it's easier to deal with and be aware of when it's outright smacking me upside the head.

Shortly before I decided to begin this post, I was sobbing and asking what God wanted me to do. I was upset because I knew I had no control over certain things, and even more upset because I know I DO have control over how I think and wasn't thinking in the way I'd like to be thinking. At least, not on the surface.

Earlier in my life, I was pretty much on my own. Mom wasn't emotionally there for me all that often even though I know she did her best, and the kids I sometimes managed to hang out with were not exactly from stable, loving homes either. (Are any of us?) So I was alone a lot and for a long time preferred it that way. I didn't need people. I would always be self-sufficient to the greatest extent that I could be, and screw everyone else and what they thought of me, whether they paid attention to me, etc.

Then at some point I entered the working world and ... retail. I HAD to deal with people despite my hatred of them. Somehow I learned to cope and eventually it got to the point where I actually enjoyed their presence. This "training" pushed me along on my life's path and so it was good experience. But then I have nights like tonight where I feel like I'm losing everyone I love, and I begin hating the fact I ever got to love them in the first place. I feel as if I was forced to love people and to begin trusting them only to be jerked away from them in times I think I need them. After a phone call to a good friend who wasn't home - the second time this has happened when I really wanted to talk to her - these thoughts come tumbling in. So I'm suddenly sitting here asking God through heavy tears, "If I'm meant to live my own life and be alone, if I'm meant to figure this out myself, then why the f*** did I get thrown toward people when I was already alone in the first place? Why alone, social, social-but-alone? Why that irony? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE LEARNING FROM THIS?! Is it that I still don't have any more control than when I started out? Is it that I need to love people without caring if they love me back? Is it that I need to BE THERE FOR OTHERS without expecting them to be there for me? Is that what I'm supposed to be learning?"

In all truth, I kind of answered my own questions. Every time I uttered one of those questions, I knew the answer was yes. My questions arose out of frustration over my will being thwarted when I knew my will had no place to be exerting itself. My ego was upset with me for learning that I'm a whole person, with or without someone else being around to tell me I'm okay, that I'm worth knowing, that I'm worth the life that continues my existence on this planet. And above all else, it *hated* the fact that I was forcing its intentions out in the open.

This is not to say that I'm no longer upset, but the intensity has faded at least. Next in my agenda is a nice relaxing evening with a bit of quiet meditation followed by settling in front of the television with a nice cup of earl grey tea, chocolate chip cookies, and an episode or two of Star Trek.

Things will look better to me in the morning.

~nvnohi

Okay, that's it. I'm staying away from energy drinks.

It's official. Those energy drinks are NOT good for me.

Last night a friend came over and just happened to have a couple of cans of "Monster" with him. Now mind you, he lives on these things (could be why he's actually more hyper than me) with seemingly no ill effects. For me, on the other hand, being the one that can sniff out a computer in a Radio Shack a mile away despite the stench of nauseating peufume permeating my airspace, it's a whole different story.

Let me say this once so I can hear myself and remember: Chemicals. And. Me. Do. Not. Mix.

Especially chemicals that alter body chemistry. And they all do for the most part...

So needless to say, I had one of the monster drinks. Half of it I should say. At first I was higher than a lizard climbing toward the sun in an arctic tundra. Then an hour or two later I was suddenly ... weird. Okay, weirdER. Friend noticed it. I got kinda lethargic, quiet, tired yet awake, very very hot, and my brain felt like I'd mashed it with a serrated knife and a toothpick. Friend left at 1am or so, and I retired shortly after that only to find myself awake for another half an hour. Finally, I fell asleep.

This morning I wasn't good. I woke up at 6am, realized I didn't have to work until much much later, and forced myself back into sleep. Finally, after several instances of waking up due to involuntary muscle twitches and a sense of miniature tremors that weren't actually happening, I decided to check email. 7am. That would make just under six hours of sleep. I *hate* 6 hours of sleep. I function soooo much better on eight.

My mind was all foggy, eyes nearly glued shut, tired, achy even ... and my stomach felt like a thousand dump trucks let go of their loads in it. And each one contained mostly rotting pieces of potato skin, slimy maggot-infested three-day-old-casserole, and moldy cheesecake with hair stuck in it. All mixed in with beer that sat out in the sun too long and a few shots of liquid dog shit. Then whenever I moved I was under the impression that someone had come along and splattered the remnants of a few dozen cartons of regurgitated milk onto the whole stinking mess. Yet somehow I didn't throw up. Probably because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't stop.

No, seriously, my stomach was screwed up, but not to the point of nausea. Just felt icky. But it was bad enough to make me realize that doing this even on such rare occasions might be a bad idea.

So here I am, tired, but not suffering from an upset stomach. Yay for me!

~nvnohi