I am coming to realize that I have become very apathetic about my life. I mean, it’s not like I don’t care if things aren’t going the way I would like, but I find that… Well, OK, maybe I don’t really care. I do but I really don’t. I’m feeling tapped out on the caring of how things go for me. God, that sounds really bad.
I honestly can say that I am not feeling suicidal. I haven’t had a single suicidal thought for months now, which is somewhat amazing for me. Its nice. With the absence of those thoughts I would think that perhaps there would be some more positive thoughts that would replace them. Maybe that is happening and I just don’t know how to recognize it, yet.
Since getting out of the hospital at the end of June, I have noticed a couple of things that are different about me. Before, organizing the bills, scheduling payments, etc were things that I did quite well…I was on top of making those things happen. Now, I have no idea what’s due when. I have to look each week. Sometimes, I find that there is something due right then, or the next day, and it’s a bit of a scramble. Gratefully, at the moment, Lance can get paid every day if he wants. I prefer to bank as many work days as possible before he gets paid since its so much easier to distribute the cash to where it goes along with making sure we have what we need to stay alive. Still, I seem to be able to only pre-plan what needs to be outgoing for about a week. More than that and I start to get confused. Frustrating, in a way, but this is also another area I seem to be becoming apathetic toward.
Another thing I’ve noticed that is different is my ambition. I am usually researching things I want to know more about, learning new ways (to me) to make money, stuff on the RV, dogs, etc., but I haven’t really been doing that either. The times that I have, I am done with it before I really get into it. Really not the me I had gotten used to.
On the upside, I find I’m more distracted by nature. I get lost in the beauty, the flow from leaf to branch, the collage of earth tones, the life, the centeredness. It opens thoughts, sparks dreams, day dreams, of a different life, a life I can feel. I think about writing, taking pictures, but, mostly, I think about what the hell am I doing? A couple of days ago, an event happened that has really put me in the middle of thinking about these things.
My brother-in-law’s wife’s son took his own life the other day. He had been having a hard time getting and staying clean. A few weeks to a month ago, he had gotten out of treatment for drug addiction. Unfortunately, it was apparent that he wasn’t done. He had totaled his vehicle and had given some unbelievable story about how it had happened. There were visible signs he was using again. It is believed that, while in a meth-induced psychosis at the home of someone he knew, he took his life.
My heart breaks for the pain his parents are going through. I wish I had the right words to say to lessen its intensity but I know there just aren’t any. I also feel somewhat hypocritical since I have attempted suicide before. Regardless, I feel… heartbroken for them, heartbroken for him. When I found out, I wrote his name on a candle, anointed it with some rosemary and neroli oils, and set it in a candle holder to burn. It didn’t burn away like the other candles I have put in this holder. It was all I could do.