Keep a record of your reoccurring thoughts

"There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delierium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him"

Antonin Artaud

I visited the shrinkage who has asked me to ramp off the medication. I don’t do ramps. I am either on or off. Currently I am off. I have big brown circles around my eyes, I am as irritable as hell and have involuntary snap attacks particularly when I am driving when I unleash my inner tourettes beast. Cocksucker!!!!

On one level I felt that he was absolutely sorry that the medication did not work in the long term and had remembered exactly where we were up to the last time I was there a year ago. However, my inner distrust took over and I thought, he has probably just read his notes and is putting on the fake caring act that earns him AU$230.

I told him that the medication was not touching the sides and that I didn’t think any pill was going to make the multi layered conversations in my head subside. I don’t know whether it is because I don’t have any one to talk to or that I am just mad like a loony. He agreed and now he wants to play CBT with me and has asked me to keep a record of my reoccuring thoughts.

Well, (that is a very Australian way to start a sentence and it should be pronounced Wool but I digress). Well, all week I listened to the banter in my mind, the broken record, the repetition.

All of it bitter. All of it distrusting and paranoid. All of it sad and hurt. As the drugs wear off my bullshit protector is wearing thin and I feel the need to tell people what I really think. I have to try to keep a lid on this at work.

Then all of this feeling used by people. My epiphany was that I have let them. Let people walk all over me. Particularly, men.

On the flip side. I thoroughly enjoyed uni and am looking foward to being there Tuesday. I also went to see my friend Sarah who was low herself and asked me for the first time in our 10 year friendship to "please come over". Not would you like to but rather, please come. I don’t make the effort with most people but I feel a little responsible for her. I met her at my brother’s wake 13 years ago. She is about 5 years younger than me. I think I have inadvertantly become a role model for her and she became all "achievement focussed" to drown out the voids in her existance. We laughed together and took comfort in each other’s misery.

Then this morning I met my friend Chrispy after a two year break. It seems my flatmate who I have spoken to for 2 months, bumped into her and told her to call me as I wasn’t talking to him and that he was worried about me. Yeah sure, ulterior motive there.

He came into my room this week, asking his drunken questions about WHAT had he done to upset me and  whether I was EVER going to stop being angry with him. I told him repeatedly to get out of my room in the softest voice as I could muster as our new flatmate was listening downstairs. I didn’t want to make a scene. Except when he left and went  to bed I was overcome by a rage, something I hadn’t felt since the Troy days of door slamming and walls cracking.

I went into his room turned on his light and said, I’ll tell you why I am angry you cunt. You are a user. He said, what have I done, I was nothing but honest with you. I said don’t flatter yourself cock sucker. I am not just talking about me. I am also talking about the other girl you have been fucking. Does she know about me. He lied and said yes. I said, well that’s good, I wouldn’t want it to come as a surprise to her when I call her to discuss her feelings on how you have used us both. He looked sick with fear.

In my conversaton with the shrink, he said, yes, he has behaved abominably, and as you said Blue, had you kept your emotions under wraps he would still be around for a senseless fuck. You are right, the intensity of your emotion has become too much for him to fathom, so he has dropped you like a hot potato because it smells like more than just sex now. The shrink said, he must have a gall to invite her to your home and sleep with her whilst you are there. Why don’t you say something to her. I said, I am not that type of vindictive person and it is not her I am angry with, I feel sorry for her. He said, well, he’s getting off knowing full well you won’t compromise your dignity and say anything to the other girl. I stewed on that all week. How piss weak I am. So when my flat mate started to push me for answers to why I was playing no speaky I thought I would shock him with that little comment about discussing his dual fucking with the other girl.

So here are the otherreoccurring thoughts.

Where has my brother gone. I want my brother back.

All men are bastards. With four exceptions, three of them faves from here.  

I guess I was never meant to be like normal people and have a relationship based on trust and understanding.

Im never going to have kids. (The one thing I really want)

I don’t trust anyone. People let you down.I will just shut everyone out.

I feel so alone, I feel on the outside of everything.

People think I am nuts. I am nuts, so what? Nuts is the only way to be. I just want to find one other nut who appreciates being nuts and can revel in it like pig rolling around in shit.

Why am I so irritable. Why are people so annoying and such bad drivers and drive like nannas on valium.

I replay the scene in the french movie hidden, where someone kills themself very suddenly in front of someone else (watch the movie to find out how) and I think that this image is one of the most disgusting and yet beautiful things I have ever seen.

I like mosaics and intricate things and I like things done a certain way and my intestines get all bent out of shape if my routines are compromised.

 I have to go to bed now. I have a bastard of a week ahead of me.