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Next Life, NO Kids: October 2015

October 26, 2015

I Am Not Available

I haven't published here in two months. That's the longest I've been absent from this blog in two and a half years. This should have been a red flag. I often write to breathe, and have been feeling like I'm suffocating. 

I started this blog to feel less like an escaped mental patient, and somehow it has backfired. 

One of the issues is, I've been editorially constipated. So much coming in, but very little making its way out. I've been using Facebook and Twitter as life lines, and have felt completely unable unwilling to unplug. I've wanted to write about so much, but have been telling myself it needed to be funny. This blog was supposed to be funny!! No one wants to read another whiny post about how fucked up and useless I feel. So, I've been holding my breath.

Also, I have been busy making myself available to literally everyone who has attempted to connect with me via text, email, comment, phone, and carrier pigeon. I have responded to every communication and made it my mission to assure my availability. I've been practically handing out flyers offering free, unlimited access to everything I am for two months straight.

I'm exhausted. The well is dry. 

I have been making myself so available to so many people, I haven't been available to me. I have had less time for things like eating and sleeping; less time for breathing. I have been so hyper-focused on the joys and ability to make connections, I've completely burned myself out -- morphed into some sort of useless electrical outlet; still connected, but on a shorted circuit.



For the past week I've been on strike. It's what I do; usually after some insignificant last straw throws me into fierce isolation.

Suddenly I find myself fed up with the constant draining -- the draining I invite and encourage -- and I lose faith in humanity for a spell. Then I remember it's all my fault, that I should have control over this thing, and I lose faith in myself. I repeatedly expect people to become magically aware of boundaries I never set. 

Don't people understand I'm just human? 

Fuck no, they do not. How could they, when I pretend so often to be capable of so much more? I hold myself to the same ungodly standards I beg others to reconsider for the sake of their sanity. I spread myself thin, then refuse to be honest when given an out. 

You really need me. Do I have time to chat? It feels nice to be needed, and I am honored that you trust me...so I lie.

"Of course!" I assure you. "I always have time for you!" I want you to know that you and your happiness are important to me. I want you to know that you are deserving of time and care. I know the devastation of feeling alone, in pain, like no one is listening. I want to save you from that. 

I want to save you.

I convince myself if I don't share all that I am, I'm being selfish and not grateful for the wonderful life I have. I forget that I have earned this life, and that no one person has ever handed me every tool I needed to get here. 

I am only one person, and I need to stop acting like that's not enough if I can't save you. 

Because I can't save you. 

I can tell you it's possible to overcome whatever hardships are presenting walls in your life. I can share the truth of my experience in hopes to help you understand you can recover from all sorts of incredible shit...with help. 

I cannot always be that help, and what's selfish is to pretend that I can.

When I am constantly available to everyone who needs me, I am less available to my family and friends. When my attention is always focused on everyone else, I have less time for me. Then depression moves in, and OCD and ED make themselves comfortable while I desperately try to control shit I cannot. 

This is not an unfamiliar place. This is a place I used to feel safe. Even in my counseling days, I would extend hour-long sessions, sacrificing my personal time to accommodate "need." I have used my abilities to help others out of intense emotional pain to deflect my own. This served me very well during the many years I was unable to wrestle my own demons; before I was ready to make peace with the woman each of them has shaped me into. 

The thing is, exhausting myself numb no longer serves me. On the contrary, it impedes my ability - my right - to enjoy the life I have worked so hard for.

I can no longer avail myself to the universe. Although my ego would love you to believe in my extraordinary capabilities, it's not true or healthy for me. I want to apologize, but I can't do that either.

I'm just one fucked up, flawed human being willing and able to talk about it. I will continue to do that here, and if you have comments or questions, I encourage you to leave them below my posts where I can respond. I will write my truth here as consistently as possible, and take the actions necessary to continue breathing so my words might prove to even just one person he or she is not alone. I will try to have faith that whomever is meant to read them will, and to let that be enough. I will no longer be rushing to respond to personal emails, messages, etc. because it is killing me and I want to live. 

If you want to rent my brain for writing, counseling, mentoring, editing, or just a swift kick in the shitter, please reach out. Otherwise, as much as it pains me to admit...

Until further notice, I am not available. 


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