Sunk

Wow, let's just say some days are better than others. It's a strange fact for me, that none of this shit is linear. I get up on my feet fairly resiliently but, inevitably, along comes an unexpected ass kicking. Such a collapse hit yesterday and back came all of the dark demons of self-destruction, exit strategies, a desire for nothing except crawling into bed with blankets not only covering me but also on all the windows. Just giving up and disappearing. It was a total surprise, also. I tried to do a chain analysis on it but got nowhere. It was after I had a fairly peaceful half hour sit. Just felt like a flood of evil chemicals out of nowhere, despair and weepiness and self loathing. 

It's all part of the trip, for sure. Would be lying if I said I accepted it. But it is part of all of it. I have, in the past, been completely paralyzed- yesterday, somehow, I found a way to forcibly pull myself up and get in the car and go the two hours of CoDA that has been a regular part of my Monday night for the past several months. This is not always doable but for some reason yesterday it was. 

The time has come to go
Pack your bags, hit the open road
Our hearts just won't die
It's the trip, keeps us alive

so many miles, so many miles, so many miles away

They're following some dance of light
Tearing into the night
Watching you fall asleep
The sweetest dove in a dream



I guess, looking back at the last post- I can see the thunderclouds on the horizon for the tumble yesterday. As soon as I got to the CoDA step study and then meeting, I "felt better," as in, I felt basically functional. Considering. And later, I was able to do a little bit of a chain analysis and discover some of the thoughts I had had that, unbidden, sank me like a dark stone. Sexual jealousy, loneliness, self-hating thoughts of never amounting to anything, of being a failure, of being "alone for the rest of my life," fatal comparisons with others where I saw them as being wise, making the right choices, and myself as being a goddamned fool and having never been capable of choosing anything constructive. It's revealing to me how quickly these thoughts spark up without much summoning or even awareness- deep inside my diencephalon or midbrain, the demons dance. 

It's weird to know this waits at all times, and that the best I can hope for is to develop a resilience in responding, a skillfulness of riding it out. I mean- that's a good best, in a lot of ways. Much better than the alternatives. Yet I find myself angry and rebellious at the idea that I could be subject to this total loss of heart at any time, simply because of thoughts that I do not even notice I am having. What a way to live. And I resent the work it takes to develop the skill of resilience. 

A couple days ago, I had just gotten gas at the gas station, and was pulling out of the parking lot, and an unhoused, unkempt guy in a wheelchair with a duffel bag wheeled across the drive in front of me. At first I was annoyed. Dude, I'm trying to drive here. Goddamn these homeless people in this awful, fucked up world. It amazes me sometimes the cold, hard stone of a bitter heart I have when I observe my first thoughts. Having observed this bitterness, I was able to let go and open up a space of compassion. May this man be well, happy, live with ease and be safe. And then I began to wonder. What is keeping this man alive? I don't mean materially. I mean in the most basic way. He was struggling so much. It was more than 100 degrees out. Discarded, unloved, raw up against a fucked up and cold world, fiercely surviving. Why? I'd love to interview unhoused people whose entire life is deprivation and unease, just to get a sense of what keeps them going. 

I'd love to say that these experiences "put my own suffering in perspective" but I'd be lying. "Count your blessings!" the sunshine crew recommends. Fuck off. I suggest.