Activecitizen54's Blog

Insane Sunday

Posted in Uncategorized by activecitizen54 on May 19, 2013

Insane Sunday

I haven’t reached the “I think I’m a banana tree” stage yet.

Another day and I woke up breathing.  Life goes on.

Understanding clinical depression, major depression is a place where I am profoundly talented at defining from experience. 

This is the place where sleeping and waking become blurred with interrupted sleep cycles, a constant sense of disassociation from “reality” as most know it, moments of total disorientation. 

This is the place where once awake the overwhelming fear, loneliness and worthlessness all come crashing in with the first reminder of it is another day to push through in hope of a better tomorrow. 

For me that better tomorrow just doesn’t ever arrive.

I have maintained some scraps of sanity to allow me to move through the demands of daily life with meditation and a determined effort to come back to center from this altered place where I exist now.  It is tempting to self-medicate and/or just check out into substance use but that’s not my style now or ever.  Oh I’ve been there done that and enjoyed most of it but don’t want to go back now or ever.

So am I ever going to head back to my typical daily rants?

I’m just not sure that I’m inspired anymore because of the reality that surrounds me today. 

I live in terror of being alone and find myself alone more and more often because of this.  I honestly and fundamentally understand why roomie would run away for the weekends with my current condition ruling life.

I feel:

As if my inner child has been murdered and no one but me knows it.

As if I am the walking-dead in my current state of decomposition.

A disposable person.

Finding the humor within all this is a gargantuan effort of intellect and experience. 

Maybe I just need a good cry and to freaking get over myself. 

I’m not sure of anything these days.

That is the Berdache path. 

That is the center from which all springs.  The flesh has many metamorphosis through life and the worm turns to the beauty of the butterfly with the power to effect the future.

How many lives and futures have I changed?

Even if it is only one then as long as that change is for the better I am satisfied. 

Bullied in school, a failure at meeting “expectations” as in 11 years of marriage to a woman, 10 years married to a man and the incredible acts of kindness and love delivered to undeserving sub-humans on too many occasions demonstrated in Dangerous Dan, Victor and now single by choice, provides me perspectives that no one else could ever know.

I know the closet intimately and reject it by understanding that recognition of self is paramount in successful life. 

I can not and I will not deny who I am and how I was created by “God” for lack of better communication skills.

I am also intimately connected with the natural world that surrounds us all with understanding of ecology, the web of life and the resiliency of life while recognizing the horrific degradation of the only Earth we are entrusted with.

My first teachers were the Maple Trees of Up State NY.  My home and refuge deep within the Hemlock and Beech forest of the Appalachian Mountains glades and ravines. 

Long before the Forsythia and crocus blooms heralded the awakening spring the Maple that stood sentry outside my window unfurled the blood-red fuzzy blooms and we, like Vampires, tapped my brethren for their life’s blood to produce that sweet elixir of Maple Syrup. 

Summer was cooled by the Maple’s leaves, larger than my hands at the time, that fanned and concealed the deepest secrets of my child’s soul. 

Fall arrives with my brethren spilling their blood across the mountainsides to be ogled by the throngs of city-dwellers who would cruise the dirt roads.

I seldom mourned the passing of one of my brethren in the bitterest cold of January and with cannon-shot explosion opening a glade where sweet grass, trillium, may-apples, dog-tooth violets and monarda would draw the life to it even with all the splendor of death as the corpse lay rotting and exposed.

Today I identify closely with the rotting corpse in my current state of decomposition.

The dance of the feces revisited. 

Maybe I should’ve called the embalmer in at 29? 

Thirty years late recognizing that; aren’t I?

Life is a terminal condition. 

No one gets out alive.

I am this moment now, nothing more or less. 

I am a collection of experiences, and expression of the environment within which I was formed and I am nothing. 

What will anything matter in 100 years?

So welcome to my world. 

This is where Reverend Mother Ipheelia Peters of the Wild Things Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence found her immaculate conception and virgin birth.

It is from this inner soul sheltered in the secret glades, oasis of life in a sea of illusion, that the pain is released and the intuitive strength of natural energy cleanses my soul.

My Imp and muse is gone and I am alone.

I laugh about being Giraffe in my old age and that’s come from an obscure study by some dizzy Britt of Rothschild Giraffes male-bonding for protection that often lasts a life time.  So here is the “perfect storm” that has struck:

Vile and demeaning employment.

Threats to having a roof over my head and food on the table.

Facing dependency and fighting it all the way but threatened to the core.

Facing physical decomposition in doing battle with the diabetes and God only knows what else.

Making a conscious decision to come off anti-depressants.

The loss of Avery.

No time to grieve.

Life is relentless.

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