I no longer have much of a social existence. This is hazardous for bipolar types. You need a support network. Whether your friends know about your ins and outs or not is irrelevant, you need to be around people from time to time and have them interested enough to check on you. I have rarely if ever had people in my life who ever gave much of a fuck about me. This is not a self pity party. It is a mere statement of fact, I am a very self aware person. Unless I had something to offer people directly by way of services or access to services or goods my value to people and relevance drops to nothing. Those people eventually drift out of my life. You will doubtlessly say something to the effect of: “Well then they weren’t really your friends!” Clearly. The issue here being that this is just about all of the people I have ever met. I have let relationships that seemed genuine slide to the horizon and kept them in view with the odd phone call only to meet the standard: “Yeah, sure! Soon, man, really soon.” Which is friendship for: “I never want to see you again but I am too much of a coward to just outright say it.”
As I have said in the past I have no skill in building and maintaining relationships and I spend way too much time thinking about it. I watch myself say and do things that are at odds with things that occur in my mind. Sometimes I am a verbal thinker so a social setting is actually a negative experience for me, especially when a new idea presents itself. If I haven’t had the chance to write down my thoughts on a subject nor even just mull them over privately I can say some stupid shit in a conversation that I regret later. Things that I don’t even believe in. Not always, but sometimes. Usually I am fairly quick, but even this comes off as a weaponized effort, as though I am bludgeoning people with my wit or opinions. Then there are times when just a group dynamic makes me no better than a teenager amongst a group of adults. I wasn’t like this even seven years ago, I am in decline and I have no clue why. I have spent a fair amount of time away from social settings and this is making it worse. I desperately want to be involved in them. I want to find myself in a scenario where I have a group of people that I see so regularly that it is taken for granted almost. I had something like this in the past and it was excellent, no worries about who to see or where, just always be at “Kim’s” or the cafe. It was very much like a modern sitcom, not going to lie. But it was mine and I miss it.
Lately I have been rather detached. I feel a vague sense of desire to be involved but seeing as I am so far removed by the time I actually get to the point where I am socializing I am so far behind and so far from relevant that I feel like I have this massive game of catch-up to play and I am overwhelmed. Nobody else seems to see it nor seems to care enough to include me so there I am, physically present but totally and for all other purposes not present nor pertinent. For all that it matters I may as well be another piece of furniture. My wife does this. I know she doesn’t mean to. I hope anyway… Either way, the result is the same and inside my mind and my heart I am on the dark side of the moon, at the bottom of my well, screaming… Alone and screaming. Silently and violently spewing my metaphysical lungs up, staring at the corner where the ceiling meets the wall with a slight furrow in my brow. Partly because I can’t let anyone see the abject pain and suffering in my eyes for fear that they will ask me what is wrong and make a big deal of it. Partly because the meds are making my head spin with the fervent activity taking place all around me and for a moment I am frustrated and I genuinely feel jealous of an ostrich’s ability to bury its own head.
Where once I was able to bounce into a room and make everything about me, which honestly is a douchey move, I now have a hard time even keeping up. I think I understand the frustration that the handicapped feel sometimes with certain situations. Knowing that you are powerless to do anything about it. I am no longer a socially adept creature. Where once I had this superpower that allowed me to be (even though I wasn’t) I now have nothing. I have to wonder if the medication is worth it. Not wanting to kill yourself while living a lifestyle that no sane person would care to live? If it weren’t for the medication I would want to kill myself more now than ever. I can’t drink. I can’t relax and be myself. I can’t be nearly as creative as I once was. I’m pretty certain my wife doesn’t even like me anymore. I am trying really hard to look forward at the positive things my life will hold other than the fact that it will still be there before me and that is the list total. It will still be there before me. Fucking sweet. I am SO EXCITED.
I shouldn’t complain. This may sound really shallow but I would trade twenty years off the end of my life to live passionately and wildly with my wife until then. To dance and drink and smoke and fuck and run and jump and scream and live and you get the idea.
This old man at thirtysomething shit has got to go. As Weezer said: “It’s time I got back to the good life”.