Couldn't sleep last night. Thing with a few bottles of 7% beer and mindless Youtube videos at 3am is that they are an effective strategy to knock you out after a long shift. There is no space for thought. You give yourself away to the booze and drown out all awareness with internet noise, and then you pass out.
But you lose who you are, your sharpness -- at least I do -- so for a while it'll have to be uneasy sleep and racing thoughts, until I settle into the new routine.
Woke up exhausted. I posted bitchy messages on the managers' Whatsapp group last night, about the bin store being a mess and the cardboard being in the wrong bin bags and everything, and then I woke up this morning with congealed anxiety trapped in my chest, worried that I must have woken everyone up in the middle of the night, how selfish and pathetic that was.
But I've sent a message apologising, and while making my coffee I had a word with myself -- the level of anxiety is not appropriate to the situation, which is not a big deal, the others have all done it, we all feel alone and angry and impotent late at night closing the pub, and we want to share that feeling. I'm understanding when they do it. I can only be humble and say sorry, and be understanding with myself when I do it.
I feel better now. It's actually funny, how much this rage is making me exactly like Dennis in Always Sunny. It's only repressed emotion. It'll balance out soon.
I do feel strange at the moment. Like something that has been frozen inside me for a long time is suddenly melting, and it's flowing out in weird ways. Rage. Tears. Tiny things keep making me want to cry. Sometimes in tired, whiny ways, but also in swellings of empathy, passion. It's all good. I'm learning how to ride my self anew.
Going to meet my dad now, then evening with Fran.
- - -
It is late. Fran is taking off her makeup and talking to me about her dog while I sit in bed writing this. We ate out with Dad, then walked home in the evening sun and bought Ben & Jerry's from the shop round the corner. Ben & Jerry's is what you buy when you're not drinking.
I don't feel good. I feel bored of everything. Feel like I'm doing what I always do with my writing, which is try to say things that make me sound likeable, rather than that are true.
OK, but be aware of that thought. Already in awareness it loses its power. And by admitting it -- isn't that itself something that doesn't make me likeable, and something that is true?
Mmm, but my method of admitting it is intended to disarm; in a way by admitting something ugly about myself I'm trying to show that I'm beautiful enough to be accepting of my own ugliness.
... Jesus. There's no point fighting that kind of self-loathing. It runs parallel with everything, finds a dark motive for everything.
The ego is always doing its thing. That's fine. Let it play. Just ego. Just mind. Making its noise. Let it alone.
Also: I'm less than a week into a huge upheaval, I will treat myself very kindly, put my head down, do the work. Turn up, say how I'm feeling, how I'm doing. That's all.
Sleep next to my girlfriend now. Good night.
No comments:
Post a Comment