I haven’t posted here in about a week. Its been a long week and I really haven’t known how to express what I’m feeling. Depression has once again tightened its grip on me. There have been times this week when I could have just screamed at everyone for no reason at all. It was a lot of work just making it through the day without exploding. I just want to be left alone to my own devices, yet I long for the right person to be there. That person just doesn’t exist in my life and I guess they never will.
I’ve always been comfortable by myself. I feel like such an outsider when I am in a crowded room, so much so, that I often feel more alone there than when I’m out cruising through the country side on my motorcycle. The events of these past couple of weeks have reminded me just how alone I will be one day.
I feel old this week… very old. I can’t say that I feel sick. Depression has just drained my batteries. I look at the things going on with Dad and want to curl up in a ball and cry. I know that one day, whether its next month or 10 years down the road, I will be the last of my family. Who will take care of me when I reach the end of my days? I have no one. This bother’s me more than anything I face taking care of Dad (or Mom when she was still with us). When they are gone… I will truly be alone. My plan is to have everything prepared so that none of my friends at the time get ‘stuck’ with me or carrying out my final arrangements. As far as I am concerned, there need not be any calling hours or service. The plot is already there in Haywood Cemetery beside Mom and Dad’s lots.
I ‘ve thought a lot about what I want done if I should come down with Cancer or some other terminal illness too. No chemo. No radical treatments. Let me rot away. I don’t want to go through all of the rounds of successive sickness caused not by the disease but by the cure. I will take the end as it comes. This may sound awfully morbid to some of you (if anyone even reads this stupid thing). I’ve had many nights of tears in the last couple of years. Selfish as it may be, since I’m not strong enough to take my own, I will just let life take itself unimpeded by doctor’s guesses and hocus pocus.
I am no where near, at this age, where I thought I would be when I graduated high school. I had all these dreams. One by one they evaporated. People tell me that you make your dreams into reality or that I could go back to school and learn a different path. I’ve lost that drive. Were that drive still alive in me, I would not be sitting in the job I now hold. I would have taken the high road like my friends have done. Instead, I let depression steal my faith, my dreams and my desires. I no longer have the confidence in myself to take the leap of faith and move on. Too many times, that leap has left me laying face down on the concrete, disappointed with my bad decisions.
Desires… I always thought I would get married and have kids not long after high school. Again, I set goals that landed me flat on my ass. For the longest time I chased financial stability instead of taking the time to find the right person. I finally realized that I needed to be satisfied with who I was and try to settle down. I began pushing to find someone. Time and time, I became the brother or the special friend. Every time this happened a new wall went up around my heart. I finally thought I found someone and tore down those walls, only to find they too had walls and I was not their answer. I finally gave up completely and have resigned myself to the fact that I will die alone, possibly more alone than I can imagine. I guess that’s better than becoming another divorce statistic… who knows.
I talk about my cat, Tink, a lot. She has been the one saving grace in my life. She seems to know when I’m down. Even as I write this, she occasionally comes in and rubs around my leg or reaches up to my arm to get my attention. She and I have had many ‘talks’ since I got her. She probably thinks I”m crazy too. At least she doesn’t say it.
I joked around earlier in a Twitter/Facebook post that I should go out and get drunk like the rest of the world. It doesn’t work for me. I never saw how making yourself feel sick helped anything. It’s not my way of defining ‘a fun weekend’. That said… maybe that is half the problem. My definition and the rest of the world’s don’t match. I don’t fit in. Oh well. You live until you die and then it doesn’t matter any way.
Enough for tonight.
~Cappy