As I look back on my childhood, I can build a reasonable case for self-pity. One of my past therapists in one of his few cogent pronouncements, noted "You have a lot to be depressed about." Yes, at an early age I was a very unsupported victim of powers and circumstances far beyond my control. Yes, these events shaped my emotional habits. And yes, it was pretty awful. And yes, I do fall into self-pity on a regular basis.
There are triggers. There are things that can set me off. There's a cauldron of rage simmering just beneath the surface. And as this anger really has no where to go, there are some pretty good depressive spells. That's just how I am, right now, October 11, 2009.
I can't change what all happened. I can't change the past. It seems the best I can do is cope. (Homage to Arrested Development: "...cope, not change. Directly opposite, not the same.)
And it's very hard to shake the reality that, on the level that I desperately crave, no one seriously gives a fuck -- nor can they. They have their lives to live. They have their own rows to hoe. (Trusting any help offered is a whole 'nother level of grief here.) These are my personal crosses to bear.
I am so flippin' alone.
Here's to hoping that the St. Johns Wort kicks in soon. (ETA 1 to 3 more weeks.)
***Flash of potential insight! I'm fixin' to move at the end of next July -- to detach from familiar environs and support systems, to leave (perhaps forever) what is familiar and occasionally comfortable to me, to venture off into the unknown and potentially unpleasant, to make a jump into a place where I have no pre-established support systems. This may account for my up-tightness. I'm heading off to complete my associates degree at a state college just north of the northwestern Pennsylvania border, after which I'll return to the capitol city of this state (directly south of Montana), where I've never lived before and where I have only two acquaintances, to begin work on my surveying license. I've never made such a blind leap before -- unless you count my jump to school for the first two semesters, but that was only for a spell. I have the personal history to show that such leaps are often accompanied by emotional turmoil.
Well, Hell. If that's the problem, let's get to work on the solution. Time to start building a network in the capitol.
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