1. I’ve mentioned there’s been a little trouble with the Xondorian.
2. It’s affected my work somewhat. And my relationships. This is unfortunate.
3. Sometimes, while archiving and you are no longer depressed, a great unfairness comes up. Who is it unfair to? It’s hard to say.
“You” did things to people. Or didn’t do things for or with people. You being me, I guess. It was me who failed, time after time. I love that phrase, “don’t be so hard on yourself.” But it’s difficult to stomach the phrase when I’m staring down the barrel of a set of consequences. I’m adding that metaphor to a stack of YEARS of consequences. Many people. Many consequences. Many sitches.
To bring up another metaphor, justified by changing paragraphs, that’s a lot of lost Spiritual Jewelry. A lot of cracks through the boardwalk into the sea. the deep, deep sea. It was crazy me saying it … “I will throw it into the sea!” It’s something I say when I’m joking. Mock uber-frustrated. But I will go beyond this. I will literally throw dreams and magic and hope and promise and plans and accomplishments and progress and skills and practice time and relationships and reputation and love … into the sea. I have to rediscover buried treasure that I’ve already found. Sometimes several times! This is why I sluh-dounge around, asking stupid questions and starting all over slowly – Ionian and Aeolian at quarter note=56. No. I’m not kidding. It’s literal AND a metaphor. Where the hell are my audio files? Who the hell wrote these emails? Of course this is why you aren’t working-working! #facepalm
I know that perhaps the phrase “don’t be so hard on yourself” may come to mind. Well. when consequences that are real and are of some Demon You’s making stare you down in the face; I’m sorry but it’s time to take responsibility in some fashion. Chips will fall and it’s not fair. Some situations and people cannot deal with sick people of Various Kinds. It took me a lot of anger-bordering-up-to-hatred to learn this. I’ve learned it once and I’m not going to let it slip again. It’s my cross. It is what it is. This is me. Love it or leave it.
But I’m done torturing myself, and being tortured. It’s time to be hard on myself – by which I mean constructive. This means boundaries for myself and others. You don’t learn to say these sentences in a fog.
Back to the ocean. I’m a good swimmer (Not in Real Life… I can’t really swim well :S) – but usually I am throwing structures made of sand or sugar or flour or other delicate materials into the water; so I’m not really good at retrieval. It takes miracles. You can’t beg the sea to give you all your stuff back that you threw out because you were sick and on crazy dust. You might have lost some of it forever. You don’t know. So you dive and kick, and form search parties around the sharks at night. Looking for your precious treasures. Trying to obey maritime law for once. Maybe even trying to cut corners and fudge the boundaries. I do this. There’s relapses. This thing ain’t consistent. But the sea laughs.
And then I drown.