Writings of My Dark Room

Last week I went to a very dark place.

For four days I stayed inside those walls.
I was aware of all the things I should do, that I needed to do in order to be better. But I didn’t care and I became numb to things and I went out for hours at a time drinking and wandering and not even feeling alone..but.. helpless.It’s an odd idea. To have such a detailed awareness of what I need to do, and then to actually feel unable. To feel the in ability and to know that I’m making it up. That it’s all me.That I’m the one making the problem, enlarging the issue. Im the one being ridiculous and child-like and yet… I feel too weak to change it.
I began to blame every little difficult thing-like the way Zeeks bag wouldn’t zip up on the first try, or tripping over wires, if Zeek cried for more than two minutes- I blamed that on the fact that it was because I was here in Thailand. I began to get angry and I didn’t even realise it was happening.

I had felt that I would be able to get on track and get involved and do more things with Zeek outside of the home. I really believed I would.
And then. It kept on not happening. I kept telling myself I was happy working on my videos and pictures and that if I could just get those done I would feel better.
But I just got in deeper. So deep that before I knew it, I was shutting down and walking with this cement structure around myself, ignoring Morgan and doing the minimal with Zeek.
Light could not enter my space. And I don’t think I even wanted it too. For the first time in my entire life, I actually felt incapable of fixing anything. Incapable of breaking the cube, of being happy. I felt life slide from my finger tips and my lack of care became what I breathed everywhere I went. I stopped eating and using drink, I both mentally and emotionally exhausted myself.
I knew I needed to be better and I knew Morgan and Zeek didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treating them. I knew I was failing and I just got more angry at myself. I was miserable. I didn’t even feel alone. There was a layer of numbness to everything else I felt. I was unable to be the person I wanted. I hated that I had created this room and the person I was being inside of it.
I hated it, yet I felt I could not escape it..

In the meantime I of course stopped all contact with my family and my mother worried and wanted to talk but I felt like doing nothing of the sort and I stopped emailing the few people I was because silly this, the wait time for responses had me going wild.

I removed myself from any light because I felt all it did was make the issue less raw and I needed it to be raw in order for me to come to this point.

You would think after five years of living abroad I would have accepted being away from Canada but it isn’t the case. I guess that’s partly where all the phases and stages come in.

I have reaccepted my stay here and I have reevaluated my time and I’m kind of ready to not sulk here anymore. I’m okay.

Because it got me to a desperate make believe,four walled room where enough dizzying circles would have resulted in me being put on a plane without my son and flown to my home country where counselling sessions would have been forced into my brain space.

Sometimes I guess, we need refreshing. Sometimes we need to defrag our computers, delete various people on Facebook we don’t even know anymore and dye our hair. Sometimes we need to make big changes in order for us to continue- or even to be – happy.

I am Back!

So I got into one of the worst funks since 2006 that lasted four days and I can accept that.
I have been givin another chance and I intend to be the best that I can be, from here on out. I have so many plans that have piled up in my head of what I really want to do. Stuff that I finally want to make happen instead of them just being words I’ve been saying for months.
I feel renewed. Ready to start over.
Thank you for second chances.

is anyone out theerer listening?!?????
im.
yelling for help
anyone
anything
can i send you something ?? can i make you a letter ? ?? will you send me your email address?anything? i’ll write you a letter. anythinng.
im so alone.
just. listen. just. be there. just
just . just be.

Incapable of Fixing

I am more ready than I ever have been, to leave this country and live in my own.
Because of this, I am already half out of it. Half living here, half into everything I do here, half gone.
I am very aware of all things negative. Aware of the things I need to be doing to be better. I am aware of my faults and my lack of effort. I am aware of my awful behaviour towards my partner and sometimes even Zeek.
I know all of these things but I feel incapable of fixing it. Of changing it. I feel like I feel nothing sometimes. I feel a lot sometimes. Weights. I feel that I’m watching the days go by because they are what’s bringing me to the days where I am supposedly more happier and that I’m waiting for that happiness instead of creating it.
I am aware the danger in mistaking Canada as my only source of happiness. As the one thing that is going to cure this. I am aware that once I get there, I may be disspointed. That once life starts back up, that there will be things that surprise me or alter what I think makes me happy.

I have breakdowns every now and then, and after 5 weeks of zero contact with my mother, I called her crying. Everything seems so much sometimes.
And it wasn’t until the phone call that I said aloud that it was the unhappiest I’ve been in a long time. Previous to this call I said I was happy, I just could be happier. But the truth is
that.
That I am unhappy and I feel trapped. I feel stuck because I know of all the things to do and ways to be in order to be happy, but I am unable.
I don’t ever recall feeling this way. Inadequate. Incapable. Being upset with me.
I am not depressed but I feel that this is how depressed people feel. Unable to change the slump they are in. Either a mixture of not wanting to, laziness, hopelessness…
I have a lot. I have someone who loves me, I have money to buy things and places to go for massages and manicures and someone who cleans my house and takes care of Zeek when I want to go out.. i have a pool and an oven, a hammock and a chocolate advent calender.I have so much, yet I am sad.
I am guilty of living this lifestyle and not being happy. I am not content, or satisfied or okay with life here. And because I have already convinced myself of that, living a good thing here, becomes difficult.
It is not fair to Morgan or Zeek, to be in such a state. To be in this dramatic low.

I would like to be better.
I would like to feel that I could try. That there is a space to do so in.
I am tired tired tired all the time.

Being a parent is an on going preparation. There are always things to think for. I must think three hours in advance every single day.
And suddenly, taking a trip to the beach or going out for dinner, becomes a chore. And I recognize that it is so easy for people to plan it. For people to get ready and go.
I had friends here this weekend. And I saw it.
That they had no thought of any of the 18 thoughts that I had.
And I realise that I need to be better at this. Better at going with the flow and not caring so much. But at the same time, planning and being prepared, makes it easier.
Planning is slowly making its way into just how we have to do things now. Because that is part of what being a parent is. That won’t change.
But I guess that I continually feel the stress of thinking myself. Of all the things I need to bring and that if I forget something, it is my fault.

I apoligize for the somewhat repetitive nature of my recent posts.
I’m just stuck.

Breakdown

I had a breakdown yesterday. I sat outside on the wooden chairs, facing away from the house with my guitar in hand and sobbed till there was a puddle at my feet. I was involuntarily moving and for the first time in years, I felt fear for my behaviour. I felt panic rise, my stomach going in and out while my hands clenched and unclenched the wooden table.

With ‘Love More and Worry Less’ in my ears, I looked up at the tree and I desired to be right under it. So I stood and laid down on the wooden patio, straight out like a board and I watched the leaves twinkle in and out and I watched the sky flicker between them and I closed my eyes and I wanted sleep.

And then my husband and son were standing over me and I was getting up and I was putting a bottle in the stroller and then son in the stroller and telling husband I was going to walk to Family Mart.

I got a bottle of rum and Coke Zero and I sat down outside while Zeek drank his bottle and I poured my rum into the Coke Zero and we sat watching traffic drinking from bottles.

And later that evening after son goes to bed I will desperately feel a need to call anyone from Canada and I will sit on the bed frantically punching in numbers on my Thai cellphone and will slowly realise that I do not have enough credit. Husband will come upstairs and hand me his phone and I will call my mother and while she sits in a bank parking lot across the world I will sob to her for twenty three minutes and I will tell her it is the unhappiest I have been.

And it is not until I hang up, that the significance of the statement confronts me. I have been telling myself and others that I’m happy but could be happier, not that I’m unhappy or sad .

I pick up Toast, my teddy bear that is larger than me, grab a sheet from the spare bedroom closet and I open the door to the balcony off our bedroom. I lay down with Toast while cars pass below and I fall asleep.

I awake to husband standing over me and I get up and I fall sleep in the bed but it takes me awhile and I do not have a good sleep.

I am unhappy and I have finally said it out loud.
I’ve finally admitted I am.