I found out last night that I'm only nice when I smoke weed. That was a real bummer. That was a reality check stab to the gut. I couldn't say anything after that. Many words happened after that, but my mind couldn't leave that. I'm still processing it this morning. Am I really that mean? Where did nice Jon go?
Why should I ever not smoke weed if that's the case? Why not just walk around with a vaporizer if weed is the only solution to my meanness?
Depression is the worst it's ever been. Although I've been on Zoloft for awhile now, I'm still getting suicidal thoughts. Depression's not a game it turns out. It'll take me from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in a matter of thought-provoking minutes. All it takes is one word, one sentence, or one event to spiral me into a black cauldron of hopelessness.
I also found out last night that what I think of me isn't what my wife thinks of me. There's cause for concern, enough to reach out to a close friend. I had no idea I'd gotten this far off the beam. Or have I? I know me better than anybody. Why should I let someone else's concerns about me determine my concerns about me? There's so much to process and not enough time to do it. Kids prevent that from happening. It's a constant, unending, roller coaster that I can't get off of. It brings all the emotions out. I just can't catch a breath though. As soon as I think I have a chance to think somewhat deeply and uninterruptedly, the coaster is on it's way down.
I haven't been to a meeting in a long time. More importantly, I haven't been part of any fellowship for a long ass time. Too long. Longer than I've ever been apart from fellowship. By fellowship, I mean social relationships. I have no accountability. I've dropped all notions of being held accountable by anyone. That's my undoing and mine only. I've gotta find a way back into the circle, otherwise I'm gonna wither away and lose myself completely. I'm gonna lose everything. I have no spiritual connection with anyone these days, and that's horrifying to me.
It's hard enough trying to navigate these spiritual waters, much less without the aid of someone else traveling through the same rough seas. I've separated myself from valuable human spiritual connection, and my soul's dying from it. I want to puke it all out of me so I can detox and start fresh.
I think I'm on the way up, and my wife thinks I'm too far gone. How can two people who've shared the most intimate times together, think such polarizing things about the same situation? I don't understand it, and it's really throwing me into a mindfuck. A part of me thinks I have something very valuable to bring to marriage and family life, and another part of me is scared to bring it. I feel so alone. I feel so helpless. I don't know how I got this way. It wasn't like this before. Where did I take the wrong turn? Where did I fall off the boat?
I know this is depressing. I know this isn't what you wanna read at 6:30 in the morning as you prepare for the day. But like they say, life's not a bed of roses. It's also not a veil of tears. It's somewhere in the middle. It's just that at any moment it can feel like it's on the extreme end of things. Right now, I feel like I'm on the extreme end of the veil of tears. I have no idea how I let myself get this deep into the dark.
A thought just occurred to me that I need to read about the "dark night of the soul." Who was it that coined that term? Lewis? That's where I'm at. It's an ugly, maddening, hopeless, dark, place. I never thought I'd arrive at this place again - especially without alcohol to guide me through. OR GOD. My ability to maintain faith in a god of any kind has left me. I can't remember how. I don't know how I used to so easily rely on abstract principles to get me through the day, and this morning I can't even imagine following any articles of faith.
Jesus - outside of a man - has no meaning for me today. God - outside of a universal, omnipotent, impersonal force - has no meaning for me either. The reality of how insignificant all of us humans are is about the only think keeping me breathing this morning. It's real. It's fathomable. The smallness of us, the grandness of the ever-expanding universe. These are concepts that I welcome this morning.
Why spend so much time of this short-lived life worrying about my state of being? My life is but .000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001pixels of ink in the digital word "my" of the digital sentence: "What is my role in this universe?" There's something in me that won't allow God, or the notion of a fictitious higher being, inside. My brain won't allow for the spiritual mumbo jumbo anymore. And it's baffling. Two years ago, it's what drove me. Spirituality and compassion drove me. Now, it's like a mental vacuum has been hooked up to my brain and sucked it all out. I'm left with the startling pieces of reason and logic to put together this confusing puzzle. And my pieces aren't fitting.
I'm a nomad stuck with a mortgage.
I'm a writer stuck as a waiter.
I'm a free spirit stuck in a life of unending commitments.
I'm a dry drunk stuck in depression.
Prayer does nothing, means nothing, provokes nothing. It's just empty words into empty space. It's pointless. I need to put prayer on my resentment list.
I seriously need to start reading again. My favorite authors who have helped me so much over the years, are wasting away under dust bunnies.