I have little spring in my step or tiger in my tank right now. I’m invited to several Christmas parties, but I want to flunk them all. I will struggle making small talk. I won’t find it easy to feign an interest in others’ lives that I don’t feel. I’m not good at subterfuge and faking it, though lately I spend most of my social time doing just that. I’m tormented by thoughts of my own inadequacy and comparative worthlessness. I don’t like confessing this. I fear alienating even you, loyal and patient reader.
But what the heck. You’re probably able to relate at least a little bit. I’m still human aren’t I? Not some kind of ill-fated freak of nature.
As well as recovering from a psychopathic ‘relationship’, I have chosen to invest myself in several different support groups. Three of them are for ex-addicts. I’m even a failure at being a proper drug addict, lol! This wretched condition of bipolar pushes all other problems to the side. It’s hard for me to admit this, but even harder to pretend to be ‘normal’.
Today I’m going to meet a friend for coffee. Needless to say, I don’t want to go. The day I skip out of the door looking forward to socialising has not dawned for some considerable time, and when it does happen, it is probably a sign of encroaching hypomania. What a doggone life. I’m damned if I do or don’t. Caught between a rock and a hard place. The devil and the deep, well you get the picture…apologies for a surfeit of cliches. I am a cliche right now.
I want to flunk out of life itself. Yet that’s not an option, dammit.