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1:02 pm - Thurs 10.03.2013
This Is NOT "A Cry For Help".

This Is NOT "A Cry For Help"

(WARNING: This entry will contain adult language and content.)

Told myself that I only had two things to get done before work today - laundry, and this.

It's been over a week since I've last written, and I was thinking at one point, "I'm letting a lot 'get away from me' here. By the time I sit down to write, a bunch of things are gonna 'slip through the cracks'".

And then I thought, "But who really gives a fuck?".

Well, any analysis of who reads this and its relative importance to them aside, turns out I give a fuck.

Because of this:

This reminds me of one of my main gripes about having been a foster kid. Events happen and they often slip away unless you have people around you who remember and remind you. Your life is encoded in other peoples' memories. I don't remember half of my early life since I haven't had consistent relationships with the people who housed me. There's no one around to remember who I was and reminisce about the time that we did XYZ .

This leads to other depressing existential questions like, who are you if no one remembers you? What actually happened in your life if there is no record (film, photo, memory)?

That's a comment from a foster care "alumni" group I'm in on Facebook.

And yes - I relate.

I "relate" a lot.


Well, Janet called me last week, uncomfortable with having "broken up" with me via email.

So basically, she called to "break up" with me again, which turned out to be even less fun than it sounds.

(If she's unhappy with how the telephone break-up went, I'm predicting the next "break-up" will somehow involve needlepoint.)

She wanted me not to be "upset", and even did the "I hope we can be friends" thing.

And I could have given her the bullshit she wanted to hear - "Oh yeah, it's all good, we can totally be BFFs" - but I'm sad and confused and angry (and relieved), and I don't really care to expend a lot of effort making her comfortable.

In short?

Fuck her.


It's always tough when times are slow and the auditions aren't happening.

But it's particularly tough when times are slow and the auditions aren't happening...and it's the theoretical "busy season".

And it's tougher still when you manage to screw up what few auditions you get.

But I have to give myself some credit- It takes a special kind of talent to screw up a really basic audition (Where it's pretty much an "extra" role), and an audition where you're playing an actual scene.

I don't want to get to "into it", because it'll depress the hell out of me, and I'm struggling bad enough as is.

And, however things went, however much I want to beat myself up over my failings as a "professional actor", those auditions are gone now, so all that's left to do is look forward to the next ones, and vow to do better.


(4:51 pm)

Almost time to head to work - I'm driving today, otherwise I would have left 20 minutes ago - and I'm happy to say that I did get my laundry done (I'm driving because it took me most of the day till the laundry room opened up, and I just finished putting my clothes away).

And while I'm not done with this just yet, I'll have time to "wrap things up" when I get home tonight.

And besides those two things, I made headway on switching my health insurance, from WW to SAG.

That's important, because I really need to get myself checked out physically (To see about the sleeping issue...and my back issue...and my bowel issues...and my eye issues. In short? I've got "issues").

And the the biggest "issue" of all, I fear - my psychological/brain-chemistry issue.

For most of my life, I've assumed my mental/emotional problems were all psychological in origin, but in recent years, I've really come to believe it's a mix of wrong thinking and wrong wiring; there have been days recently - a number of them - where I've been at the grocery store or walking down the street or whatever, feeling like crying, and I have to tell myself, "Nothing is any worse than it was yesterday, when you didn't want to cry, and weren't wondering what would happen if you took to your bed and just didn't get up, or found yourself pondering the mystery of why you don't just kill yourself".

So I think I should maybe try to see someone - Cause even if therapy doesn't really do any good (After a lifetime of effort, it sure hasn't seemed to do me any good), I still just need someone to talk to on a regular basis - and though I've resisted the idea for a long time, I think maybe I need to consider drugs.

I worry about the expense of all this, but what's the alternative?

Between feeling like Lead Zombie on The Walking Dead from lack of sleep, and struggling with the fear that "This is pretty much the best I'm going to get from life, the pathetic best I can do...and I might have to do this shit for another 20 or 30, increasingly unpleasant years", I'm in bad shape.

(It's actually early Friday morning now...)

The shit with Janet is part of the bad feelings I'm describing here, but only part, and not totally in the way you might think.

It's upsetting that the first woman who's indicated some romantic interest in me in decades has ultimately rejected me, for reasons I don't understand (But, insecure guy that I am, for any number of reasons I can imagine). And the idea that sex and love probably aren't going to happen for me is depressing.

But the real kicker for me here, that I'm embarrassed to admit, is that I felt almost as bad during the time we were doing whatever-the-fuck-it-was-we-were-doing as i did when she sent her "break-up email"; I really was attracted to her, and found her interesting, but honestly, the "dominant feeling" I carried with me throughout the experience was massive amounts of anxiety.

And that's what's bothering me - I might be miserably lonely, but I guess I at least "know what that is" at this point.

When presented with the possibility of a seismic change in my life - the addition of a woman, with all that entails - I really struggled to figure out what I was most afraid of, whether it wouldn't work out, or whether it would (The way things played out, it was more upsetting that it didn't work out...but not by as much as you'd imagine).

I've been thinking a lot lately about the idea of "A cry for help" (You know, how people in pain "act out" in some obvious way to get people's attention, because they can't just ask for help).

People often feel guilty for "not catching" that a person in their life was in pain, and suffering terribly (Before killing themselves or "acting out" in some fashion)...but I started wondering recently "If I just said outright how awful I feel a lot of the time, how afraid I am of where things are headed for me, how pointless it often seems, what exactly could anyone do for me?".

The answer?


If there's a way out of this - short of death - I have to figure it out. I have to find the wherewithal to fight for myself, to figure out how to get whatever-the-hell-it-is I need.

I feel very tired. And very overwhelmed. And as unhelpful as I know it is, I wrestle with a white-hot rage at myself for everything I'm writing about tonight.

This isn't a "cry for help". You're not responsible for me, whoever-you-are. No one is.

This is my pile of shit to deal with.

Well, this has just been ten tons of fun, huh?

I've probably droned on long enough - Besides, I've got to go down and slip my rent check under the apartment manager's door.

(I didn't get around to writing about some WW stuff I wanted to address...but next time...)


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