Restless, Irritable and Discontent...

     I've been growing increasingly tired with the way my life has been going (not going, actually) lately and I can't seem to snap out of it. Maybe it's depression, loneliness, anxiety, aging or some combination of the above but I  have run out of any sort of effort to do anything about it (a Kiwi friend of mine said it best when referencing work, "I'm out of "puff").  As I shared in a previous blog all my efforts for change or improvement ended back at me with little or no results. Makes me think of the lines from 'Rooster' and 'Man in the Box' by Alice in Chains... "Seems every path leads me to nowhere." and "I'm the man in the box... buried in my shit." I realize how pathetic that sounds but it's how I've been feeling. I have plenty of  friends and family that I can talk to but that brings to mind two things 1- I hate sounding like a complainer and burdening people  b- I've heard all of the advice that friends and family can give... and while I appreciate what they try to do but it usually falls on deaf ears(tell it to the interweb). 

       Quite a few years ago when I was feeling particularly crazed (and sober), I basically had to beg my doctor to send me to see a psychiatrist. She would tell me that I just needed to meet the right girl...huh?!!? That may be true but relationships tend to exacerbate my condition. She eventually gave in and made me an appointment to see a rather well known shrink at U.B.C.  We talked for a while and he told me I just needed to get a hobby... what th' ?!!? He said I should look in the phone book under sports and pick one- he sent me on my way after only 40 minutes. 

     My mind is super active and it tends to race or then I'll get complete tunnel vision and can only think about one thing. Quite a few years ago I became totally obsessed with tattoos... then  proceeded to get a dozen of them. I bought all the tattoo magazines, books... I was fascinated with them, particularly the old school ones. I'm a bit of a "thrower awayer" and now that I have these tattoos I find myself unable to stop thinking about them (almost obsessively) and I most certainly can't  throw them away... woops. I like the tattoos but the obsessive thinking about them can tend to drive me nuts...but if it wasn't them it would be something else. I used to do it trying to figure out God, I'd grind it over in my mind until I would literally scream.

    There was a saying I heard a few years ago when I was in "the program" and it was "restless, irritable and discontent." That pretty much sums up my insides today... I hardly ever feel happy,  hopeful or at ease unless I've had a couple of drinks. I realize this is no cure but it sure offers up an effective albeit temporary solution. My Dad once said, "It's not easy being me." I guess the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree.

     One last thing having brought up my Dad. When I working with him in the eighties installing railings I met a painter friend of his named Ron (hey I'm a painter now...). He was in his mid to late fifties and at lunch one day Ron began to talk. He explained how he had to quit drinking because he was up to a bottle a day. He said he had been quite an avid boater but had lost interest since he got sober. His kids were grown and out of the house and to quote him he said, "Is this it? A coke float and a new blade in my razor on Saturday night." I got a kick out of what he said and I sort of understood but not really. It turned out Ron had gone to see a shrink (Archie Bunker said, "Anybody who goes to see a psychiatrist ought to have their head examined.") and they started trying different drugs on him. Dad told me that one day at work Ron had asked him to feel his pulse rate in his neck and said it was racing upwards of 200 beats per minute. It's sad but Ron later died of a heart attack from the very drugs they were using to "cure" him.

      Maybe it comes down to accepting yourself as you are... but what the heck do you do when that seems unacceptable?