I wound up chatting with Norton support yet again, this time accusing them of being scammers in several different ways. Then I had some sort of hysterical meltdown and told them how hurtful it was to see my blog, my diary, marked as a known dangerous web page.
The guy apologized, which was nice. Most people never apologize.
And I just realized how deeply it upset me to be called dangerous, because I worry that I am dangerous, and I try to squelch all the aggressive urges I have, obviously, but they’re still there.
So now I’m listening to sad music.
I’m afraid I’ve been unwell lately. I’m not sure who or what to blame. I guess being called dangerous just pushed me beyond the edge of sanity.
I don’t think I’m going to be able to become a CASA. I emailed my former employer at the reading center, and she hasn’t gotten back to me. I’m sure that could be blamed on the scary virus, but what if it isn’t?
Maybe I’m not stable enough to be a good volunteer anyway. I’ve been noticing a lot of paranoia lately. I can’t depend upon consistency of expression or stability. Things set me off, and then I go postal. Time for more sad music. I should set aside the headphones. But at this point, I’m giving up on sanity. Maybe spring isn’t my season. Maybe social distancing requires too much socializing. Like, “Hello from over here! I’m avoiding you to prevent the spread of the virus. Nothing personal,” which seems to demand a response?!?! I don’t feel like interacting. No, just no.
Yes, I’m giving up on sanity. Goodbye, stability. Goodbye, rational thought. Hello, darkness. I’m danger with my dangerous web page, and it’s nice to meet you. I got the sheet music to this, and I’ve been playing it at the piano.
My life feels surreal, and I’m not sure why. I’m out of touch with whatever my reality used to be. It’s an awful feeling, as if there’s a filter obscuring my vision. The filter darkens and tarnishes everything, not making it less clear, but making it less desirable and familiar. It happened last summer, too. I should just accept that I’m schizophrenic and not have any expectations on myself. Yes, that sounds nice. I’m a complete loser.
Sometimes I wonder if the line between being mentally ill and never experiencing mental illness lies within the whole concept of deeper awareness. Many of us see what others don’t want to see; and when we see it, for whatever reason, we can’t then unsee it. Ever. I felt that way after my mom beat me. Like I’d been initiated into some dark, macabre reality. I was too aware. That could never be undone.
And then there are mental-illness posers who pretend to be initiated, but they aren’t. They envy the mentally ill label and want to lay claim to it, but they haven’t seen what we’ve seen. And I wouldn’t even wish it upon them. It’s sort of an alternate reality, but not in a way that you’d ever want to visit that reality. So, in short, those of us who are mentally ill have seen into an abyss that regular people aren’t even aware of. And that abyss can be addictive, tantalizing, even; because you find sustenance in it when nothing else is available–no one else is available–it’s emptiness and loneliness or the abyss, so the abyss becomes your one friend. And you become at home there. And then you realize that it’s not a good home, not for anyone. But that the reality–real life, with real people who all have their own secret agendas–is what you’re supposed to want, only you don’t want it. Not anymore.
So you pull away from everyone and get confused when a stranger says something nice to you, like, “What’s her motive?” or, “Am I supposed to reply?” And the darkness that just oozes out of everyone, the darkness you became aware of as a little eight-year-old little girl, probably all because your crazy mother was trying one of those liquid diets, is the only reality you’ll ever know, because no other reality is dependable or solid enough to be real.
And then you wonder why you can’t get along with normal people, and you want to believe the problem lies within them, but what if it doesn’t? What if their energetic normalcy is something that can’t be interpreted in English?
And you force yourself to rise above it and have a good attitude, because, why not? What you’ve seen, what you’ve accepted as dark reality, must be the illusion all along, whether you can convince yourself of that or not. In the meantime, sunshine and rainbows can be used as a sad replacement for goodness in the human heart, which is all too illusory and deceiving.
Yeah, I should set aside the headphones already.