Today is a more difficult day than recent ones. I had a bit of a high, I admit I could still have that high if I had gotten up when I should have or gone to bed when I should have last night. I have this nasty habit of setting myself up for failure every day and then wondering why I’m so depressed. As I process the last few years, I encounter real sadness that is not my fault, at all. The other day when I watched the end of Babylon 5 and break down into utter tears at the scene where Delenn watches the sunrise. That is real and that is not my fault, just another layer of grief to be experienced and integrated into my psyche.
That isn’t the issue today. The issue today is entirely of my own making. I’m tired because I didn’t get enough sleep. I didn’t get enough sleep because I didn’t go to bed until 2am and then stayed up in bed until almost 3am. This means I didn’t get up and out of bed until 11am or so and thus I didn’t sleep very well from 9am to then because I had been planning to go to bed. It is a cycle that I seem unwilling to break, though I have to keep trying.
I find that I have trouble telling the difference between depression and exhaustion. I should have a job by now that I have worked hard enough to have a position that affords me some amount of rest, though I do not. Instead, I have a job that affords me some amount of seniority over other employees but is just as much a job requiring the all-consuming mindset of any other job is corporate America. There is no rest, with Storm days and non-stop shifts. I don’t even take my rest-break before lunch anymore; it is pointless to try. I take both of them at the end of my shift.
I don’t want to say “this is my fault” as if I control corporate America. It is more that my current situation is the product of a lifetime of questionable choices and mental health issues. I am now quite convinced that I became depressed in high school and simply never really got over it. I was telling Avery the other night that I think Jen chose me originally, in part, because I had no self-esteem and thus would be easy to manipulate. I have no doubt in my mind that she did grow to love me, in whatever way she was capable. That being said, I started out as a toy. Another in a long line of boys she could have a relationship in her everlasting search for the kind of love and companionship / connection that she spent her entire life looking for.
It doesn’t do much of any good to sit here and look at the past that way expecting revelations about it to fix the present or much less the future. No, the usefulness is not in that but rather in trying to put into perspective the feelings and events of the past. I have been trying, and failing, to really put some kind of perspective to my relationship with Jen and all of the crap we went through together. Looking back and being now far enough away from her to have some space to think about it; I think she was just as lost as anyone else. More so if I think about it, I doubt she was capable of having the kind of relationship she really wanted to have, for her it was always going to be hard. I’m thinking about all the animals that she had which “betrayed her” or rather chose someone else to attach to instead of her. I think they did this because she was a sociopath, and they could tell. She could never really maintain a relationship with anyone long term because she did not really attach to people. Even me, she wasn’t truly attached to but rather … I was going to say that I was convenient, but it was more than that. Perhaps that is a conceit on my part, thinking I was more special than I am. There were times though that I knew I wasn’t just a tool, a thing to be used. I wonder if I was the first person she was ever truly attached to.
It doesn’t matter now, she is gone. I still don’t understand why I miss her so very much. I don’t miss what we ended up, well… That isn’t fair either. I do, I miss my friend, but part of me wants to take what I know now and who I am now and travel back to the early days between us. Go back and just have another day or two where she was functional and able, before the weight loss surgery and all of that. I remember a day, and it was just a few moments, of her and I laying on the couch on Anderson Avenue in McKinleyville after the roommates were gone. The sun was shining, and we were as close as we ever were. That was a good moment, a golden moment. The kind of moment that keeps you going during the bad times. It was fleeting, as all moments are, and shortly after we had the discussion of Jo Anne moving down and living with us.
I still wonder what might have happened if Jo Anne had never moved in with us. What would we have become without that third person to destabilize the dynamic? Who would I be right now? I know that I owe a lot of who I am now to Jo Anne, gods know that I miss her too. It is hard for me to think about the fact that it was 7 years between Jen’s death and Jo Anne’s, the time compresses in my head. I still think about Jo Anne, though I fear it is not as often as I should. I think about her. I wonder if Jen ever had a chance to be anything other than what she was. Avery said something the other day, something she got from a podcast – psychopaths are born, sociopaths are made. Looking at what I know of Jen’s past I think that she was made into what she was. I feel bad for her, in retrospect, though she would have hated such pity.
In the end none of those things matter at all, I peal back the layers and try to make sense of the world I was in so I can try to understand the world they left me in when they went. In a lot of ways, I feel very, very, alone. I feel abandoned, the people that made my world make sense are gone and have been for some time now. I wonder now, as I say that, if some of my bad behavior is waiting for them to appear once more and tell me to behave myself or do better things. I miss both Jen and her mother enough that I would not be upset if they appeared tomorrow and told me to get my shit together. Not because I can’t do it on my own by more because I want them to come back, I want to see them again. I recall the pointed moments in that idiotic movie “Home Alone” where Kevin is searching through his brother’s stuff and says aloud something along the lines of “Hey Buzz, I’m looking through your stuff, better come out and pound me!” Of course, he doesn’t want to get beaten up, but he misses his brother (duh). That’s how I feel, and it isn’t as continuous as it was before, I have been slowly rebuilding my sense of self and that has been going well enough – it is slow though.
Just saying “I miss my friend”, never seems to emphasize enough what I’m actually feeling. I do miss them, but it is more than that. I just don’t quite have any quick and easy words or phrases to communicate the depth to which I miss my people. Jo Anne and Jen will always be my people, my family, even though they are gone.
On my RP server, Red talks about the jackets and his crew or other such things. I always wish I had that. I had a crew though, I had my people, my partners in crime. They were Jen and her mother, and I just miss them. My life back then was miserable, I was miserable, but perhaps I started out miserable. I wonder, now looking back, how many of my problems were just because I started out depressed and never figured out how to climb out of that. Just went through life coping (badly) with the depression until finally, they were dead and gone and all that is left of them is memories and wasted time.
I don’t know. I think that’s all I have for now. I have to go to work.