Oh boy, school’s over. This means that I don’t have any classes, or anything in particular structuring my week or requiring any kind of obligation from me. This is good and bad.
I still have to get my medication every day (except weekends) from the half-way house in the morning, but other than that, besides household concerns, I don’t really have to do anything above and beyond. This is an enviable position for many people, I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in the position to have all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted?
I’ve had people ask me what I’m doing lately, or recently, and I’ve literally replied, “Nothing.” I don’t mean in the past week, I mean in the past when I’ve had lots of time on my hands. Sometimes they have trouble understanding this, but sometimes they say, “Oh wow, you’re lucky, I’d love to have that.”
Well, I don’t know if people realize everything that comes with having all the time in the world.
Sometimes there’s such a thing as having too much time. You start to have a certain amount of mental claustrophobia as the spans of open time surround you. Then you get to desires and thoughts about yourself and your life. For someone who has a history of being fairly intelligent, introspective, and emotionally troubled, you end up with messed up motivation problems.
Why don’t I just pick something and do it, or volunteer, or actively find something to fill up my time?
On one hand, I try to be super careful about what I oblige myself to because I have a tendency of getting bored with it and just leaving. On the other hand, what do I do?
I know I’ve written here before about various projects and ideas I’ve had. I have many various projects and desires in my life. Things that I go, “Oh that’d be cool to do/have.” And sometimes I get real excited by something for about two weeks, and then things kind of wane. It’s not always new things, for instance I return often to the idea of building an artificially intelligent robot.
But I get derailed. My invention, well, my invention is presumed impossible. But, I’ve gotten really close to doing it, and in some respects, I have done it. I mean literally, not theoretically, I have working models. It’s just that in its current final form it’s not feasible. Or worse, the more feasible models haven’t been able to be completed, they’re missing one little part. It’s such an attractive idea though, that I end up thinking about it, and then obsessing about it, and then frustrated by it, and then… I just kind of lose track of everything else.
I get up to start a project, and then, I think, “Oooh, that’s a good idea for my invention.” And then…
I sit down and talk to my husband Maus, and we come up with good projects and ideas, and I’m all like, “Oh yeah, I can do this, I like this, I’m inspired.” And then, I don’t prioritize, I lose that first burst of inspiration-ed motivation, and in some ways, I lack any kind of outside feedback. I start to think no body will really care about anything I produce, that’ll it’ll all just fall flat. Or sometimes, I think, “Nah, I can’t do that, it’s too complex, oh well.”
Or often, I’m just lazy… and sometimes enjoy thinking about something more than actually doing it.
So I drift. I value my free time, in that I like to make sure I have LOTS of it, but then what do I do with it?
I like to read, especially non-fiction having to do with my interests. I read technical manuals for fun. Really. So, that’s something I can do with my time, and it’s not wasting it.
In some ways, I hate my invention. I think, “Why do I have to be cursed with trying to do this impossible thing, with this obsessional push that’s kind of hindered other things in my life?” I want to spend more time doing much more productive smart things, like, building robots, or writing tutorials, or publishing Poochie, or… whatever. And every time I go through a ’bout of invention obsession, I come out and start to read A LOT and then say, “Okay, I’m going to forget about this impossible thing and focus on stuff that is possible.” Then slowly, it degrades, and the cycle continues.
When I posted on my social networks my picture of my latest artistic creation I got a record number of likes and comments. I’ve been meaning to write about and post a picture of it here, but this blog, like many things in my life right this moment, is drifting. It’s like it’s on a big ocean of ambivalence floating around.
Or the other side of the problem. I have too much time to think. Then I start to get myself in trouble, thinking about my place in life, my place with other people, my emotions, and what I want to do with all of that. Sometimes I get caught up with my emotions, and I just feel pain. I’ve written about that here before. Or I wonder why I can’t just be normal, and not disturbed. What would life had been like if I hadn’t been disturbed growing up? … Why am I disturbed?
I don’t understand people who wear their mental illness as a badge of some form of weird pride. I mean, I understand feeling different, and being intelligent, and seeing and experiencing things the average person doesn’t necessarily experience. I get very frustrated with my disorder sometimes because I think it gets in my way. The co-morbid bipolar depression (currently considered unofficial) gets in the way of having a nice motivation-ed outlook sometimes. I sleep and sleep and sleep if I don’t actively battle it. And I get apathetic. I get frustrated at the semblances of atypical psychosis I feel sometimes that scatters my thoughts and makes it hard to focus.
And friends. I think one of the reasons I don’t have a lot of friends is because I have a strange concept of what a friend is, at least a ‘best friend’. All of my ‘best friends’ eventually have left me, but not necessarily of their own doing. I have left them really, the majority of the time. I had this experience growing up of friendship that I wish I could always re-capture, and that’s not really possible as an adult I’ve learned. Yet, I yearn for this imaginary relationship in my mind, one that’s different than a husband… and yet have to face the reality that it doesn’t exist. It doesn’t exist, no matter how much I think I want it, no matter how much I feel like I need it, no matter how much I may ache to have it, the fact is, it just doesn’t really exist. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to, and to be honest… it’s very depressing.
I’ve been feeling further and further disconnected actually. I wrote before on how it seems like I’ve lost the ability to cry. Yeah, that’s not so good. For a while I had a bit of too much of one feeling, after the recent lowering of medication, and I didn’t feel so good. But that’s to be expected when changing medication. However, lately I feel like I’m getting further and further away from everything.
What Maus is going through right now is really awful. I want to be everything he needs me to be right now, but I don’t really know what that is. I just have to be myself, even if it’s not enough.
I’m frustrated with my medication a little bit. I think I had stopped being able to really feel anything or think well with my medications at the strength they were before. I think lowering my lamictal was a good thing, and that it’s helped me overall, but at the same time, I think my medications are getting in the way. I’m not exactly better now, but I wasn’t exactly better before.
But, what is better?
What is anything?
I don’t have anybody in my head, and that’s supposed to be a good thing. But is it 100% a good thing? There’s nobody to hold on to, nobody to watch, nobody to feel, just silence. Just a big wall between me and the people in my head. I just seem to have a growing wall between me and everything.
In other news, I got a nice package from one of Maus’ friends named Gar. He sent me a box of skeeter chocolate chip cookies because I was by myself this week. Thank you Gar!