Zed Blaze (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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muserevival2015-11-24 10:53 pm
zedblaze) wrote in muserevival2015-11-24 10:53 pm
108.3 Journalling
On my mind
I've lost count of the amount of journalling I've done in the years since I was brought to New York. I know some people think writing about feelings is stupid and pointless, but some days, all I had were the pages inside these notebooks. I didn't have to hide anything there. When you start to feel like your brain is going to explode because there is so much on your mind, sometimes all you can do is try to get the thoughts out somehow.
Lately, I haven't written anything. No journalling, no lyrics, no songs. It's an emotional block, I know. For all it seems like I'm not functioning lately, I haven't lost my ability of rational thought. I'm aware I'm being drowned by a hell of a fucking lot right now, and there is no right or wrong way to deal with any of it. Though, I'm pretty sure getting blinded in Vegas wasn't only reckless but completely fucking stupid. I'm so ashamed of myself for all of it. I can't tell anyone that because I don't want them to try to say all the right things. Why should that be their burden when I was a wholehearted dickhead and idiot who fucked? I'm paying the price. That's how life works.
For everything else, though, do I really deserve this much pain? I've not been perfect. No one has. There are things in my life I haven't dealt with well, and right now, I'm not dealing with anything particularly well. I don't at all have a superior ego that makes me think I'm immune to therapy or beyond the ability of its effectiveness. I go to therapy every week. At least, I was before I fell ill. I go, and it helps most of the time. Other times, everything just gets too overwhelming. It gets too overwhelming because most of it was out of my control. I'll own the shit I had some level of control over to own and deal with, but most of the stuff... how the hell am I supposed to know how to cope with it?
Sometimes, I just need to be alone. I need people to understand that when I need to be alone, it's not anything against them. When you spend as much time alone as I have, trying to just keep your head above water, you get used to it. You need it. Sometimes being alone is all that can ground you. It is all that can shut out the avalanche of emotions that you feel like are coming at you so hard and fast that all you can do is duck and hide.
I'm thinking about my dad a lot now. How can I not? I just learnt he was murdered in a terrible way. That does not excuse the terrible things he has done, but I always wondered if he was sick. Unlike other severe alcoholics, he never promised he would stop, or never promised a drink would be his last. It was like he morphed into a monster when he was drunk, and when he sobered up, he didn't even know what he did. I'll never forget that one night, coming to him black and blue, face barely recognisable, broken arm in a cast, a cracked rib and a concussion... he asked who did it to me because he wanted to kill them. He didn't have any recollection it was him who did that to me, and it wasn't the first time. It wasn't the last either.
Caleb is a whole other story. I'm not sure he is easily understanding that what he did to me was just fuel to a fire already raging around me. He thought he was cause, he thought he would somehow miraculously save me. Though, in the process of saving his own ass. I want to ask him if he read all of my email. I still remember what I put in that damn fucking thing I wish I never had sent, but I don't think he realised all the things I was saying there. It's like he doesn't understand I was desperately pleading with him to help me because I had no one else to save me. I have no one else to throw me a lifeline. All I needed was help. I needed to know I wasn't alone. I couldn't even be given that, and everything just got worse then.
But now I'm here. There's then and there's now. It's like then is an alternate universe that someone else lived, yet I still feel all the pain. I'm trying. I never really stop trying, but for all I need to be alone sometimes, can anyone ever really truly survive alone without anyone? Do we only have a limited stock of painful emotions and when you are handed your fill, you lose capacity to deal with life anymore? That's how I've been feeling. I've been hurting for years. I've been terrified for years. I can't take much more of this, but now, I'm scared to rely on anyone or ask anyone for help, in case there is no one there again.
Is there really such a thing as second chances? Or will the failed first attempt always hang heavily over your heart and make you incapable of purely loving and trust anyone again?
I just don't know the answers to any of this anymore, and that fucking scares the shit out of me.
- ZED BLAZE -
original character
I've lost count of the amount of journalling I've done in the years since I was brought to New York. I know some people think writing about feelings is stupid and pointless, but some days, all I had were the pages inside these notebooks. I didn't have to hide anything there. When you start to feel like your brain is going to explode because there is so much on your mind, sometimes all you can do is try to get the thoughts out somehow.
Lately, I haven't written anything. No journalling, no lyrics, no songs. It's an emotional block, I know. For all it seems like I'm not functioning lately, I haven't lost my ability of rational thought. I'm aware I'm being drowned by a hell of a fucking lot right now, and there is no right or wrong way to deal with any of it. Though, I'm pretty sure getting blinded in Vegas wasn't only reckless but completely fucking stupid. I'm so ashamed of myself for all of it. I can't tell anyone that because I don't want them to try to say all the right things. Why should that be their burden when I was a wholehearted dickhead and idiot who fucked? I'm paying the price. That's how life works.
For everything else, though, do I really deserve this much pain? I've not been perfect. No one has. There are things in my life I haven't dealt with well, and right now, I'm not dealing with anything particularly well. I don't at all have a superior ego that makes me think I'm immune to therapy or beyond the ability of its effectiveness. I go to therapy every week. At least, I was before I fell ill. I go, and it helps most of the time. Other times, everything just gets too overwhelming. It gets too overwhelming because most of it was out of my control. I'll own the shit I had some level of control over to own and deal with, but most of the stuff... how the hell am I supposed to know how to cope with it?
Sometimes, I just need to be alone. I need people to understand that when I need to be alone, it's not anything against them. When you spend as much time alone as I have, trying to just keep your head above water, you get used to it. You need it. Sometimes being alone is all that can ground you. It is all that can shut out the avalanche of emotions that you feel like are coming at you so hard and fast that all you can do is duck and hide.
I'm thinking about my dad a lot now. How can I not? I just learnt he was murdered in a terrible way. That does not excuse the terrible things he has done, but I always wondered if he was sick. Unlike other severe alcoholics, he never promised he would stop, or never promised a drink would be his last. It was like he morphed into a monster when he was drunk, and when he sobered up, he didn't even know what he did. I'll never forget that one night, coming to him black and blue, face barely recognisable, broken arm in a cast, a cracked rib and a concussion... he asked who did it to me because he wanted to kill them. He didn't have any recollection it was him who did that to me, and it wasn't the first time. It wasn't the last either.
Caleb is a whole other story. I'm not sure he is easily understanding that what he did to me was just fuel to a fire already raging around me. He thought he was cause, he thought he would somehow miraculously save me. Though, in the process of saving his own ass. I want to ask him if he read all of my email. I still remember what I put in that damn fucking thing I wish I never had sent, but I don't think he realised all the things I was saying there. It's like he doesn't understand I was desperately pleading with him to help me because I had no one else to save me. I have no one else to throw me a lifeline. All I needed was help. I needed to know I wasn't alone. I couldn't even be given that, and everything just got worse then.
But now I'm here. There's then and there's now. It's like then is an alternate universe that someone else lived, yet I still feel all the pain. I'm trying. I never really stop trying, but for all I need to be alone sometimes, can anyone ever really truly survive alone without anyone? Do we only have a limited stock of painful emotions and when you are handed your fill, you lose capacity to deal with life anymore? That's how I've been feeling. I've been hurting for years. I've been terrified for years. I can't take much more of this, but now, I'm scared to rely on anyone or ask anyone for help, in case there is no one there again.
Is there really such a thing as second chances? Or will the failed first attempt always hang heavily over your heart and make you incapable of purely loving and trust anyone again?
I just don't know the answers to any of this anymore, and that fucking scares the shit out of me.
original character