Been Here Before

So, what's new?

Not a lot of good, despite possibly getting one of the big things I was asking for -- the new job.

I went to my shrink the other week, and she gave me an assignment -- a mood chart to complete each day, along with instructions to keep a short diary writing down what I've done each day. So most of the chronicles of my miserable existence have been shifted to paper.

I'm so cranky and down right now. But if I can't let it out here, where can I?

My online class has gobbled up way more time than I thought it would have. It's nice to have something to do in the time I'm not working, but it's awfully boring at times and I can't seem to find time to do the things I used to like to do for a few hours each week -- this blog, reading, watching one or two shows or games.

One strange thing about my moods that I've never quite been able to convey to anyone is my tendency to simultaneously be "up" and "down." I can be hyper and wired, thoughts racing, and just wanting to curl up somewhere and die. I've felt like that quite a bit the past few days.

And every time I get into one of these mood grooves I can't help but believe that I'll never get out of it, even though I always do. But knowing that is of no consolation. I always come to revisit the dark places I've been before. My life is one f----ed up carnival ride. New medications and new people shift the view a bit but it always ends up the same.

And now the only things that kept me going -- the alcohol, the infatuations, the youthful optimism -- are gone and I'm just riding this ride for the twenty-sixth time and each time it keeps getting more depressing. I'm so used to it that I don't even really want to die anymore like I used to think I did. I've made it this long and I'll make it all the way through till someone or something else takes me. Who knows where the ride goes from there. I don't really even care about that anymore -- well, I hope there isn't a hell -- but if it just ends, that's perfectly cool. Really. The carrot doesn't work anymore. It's always yanked away -- Lucy never lets Charlie Brown kick the f---ing football. The only thing that keeps me honest is the stick -- that bit of fear that still stays with me from Sunday school. So I go on in the world, living a life of trying not to screw things up anymore, waiting to die.

And still part of me still hopes there's a way f---ing out of here.

OK, a stupid post. But it's how I feel.