It is no secret that I struggle with my demons. They ride my back even in the best of times. True, there are times when my riders are light and unobtrusive. Other times they are the weight of the world. I have kept them starved and lightweight as best I can, but they have been feeding off of my stress and insecurities through the winter. I have begun to really feel their presence and attempts at regaining control. I fight them though. I get the bit in my teeth and refuse to relinquish control, but it is a losing battle. They saw at the reins until my mouth is sore and bloodied. They whisper hurtful things in my ear, attacking my self-esteem, my creativity, my sense of self, and optimism. They are so adept at finding the tiniest of chinks in my armor and inserting their clawed fingers, wriggling them in until they hit flesh and nerves. Little bastards, always looking for those vicious opportunities.
This winter has been weird country for me. In the past I have had a job to keep me focused and on track, even as it has seemed to contribute by way of stress and sleep deprivation. Now, without the daily, Monday through Friday Grind I am adrift and floundering a bit. I am such a creature of habit and routine that when there is no schedule I seem incapable of truly taking advantage. On the plus side, I am sleeping enough, finally. But I feel as if I am squandering valuable time. Yes, I am staying busy, getting shit done, training twice daily, cooking epic meals for myself, meeting new friends, making a few pretty things to garner some cash. Despite the sleep, despite the training, despite the nutrition, I am still slipping deeper into that grey zone I am all too familiar with.
Days flirting with the abyss, seeing the grey morass swirling around my feet. Hearing the sibilant hissing of my demons as they attempt to assert their dominance. Days such as these require just the gentlest of prods to send me teetering over the edge. There have been numerous such gentle prods over the last few weeks. Nothing cataclysmic or devastating, but more like the drip of water that wears away stone. I try to meet each little disappointment head on, instead I seem to take it on the chin. The last few days have seen me wanting to slink off to my room, crawl under my down comforter, turn off the light, curl into a little ball, and cry silently into my pillow. Despite new friendships I am feeling isolated, alone and lonely. I hate it when I let myself feel lonely. But I can't even tell you how often I have been alone and lonely in a crowd of people, and honestly, that is far worse than solitude.
So, as usual, I sit at my keyboard, analyzing and dissecting, trying to bore down into the heart of the matter. Hoping, wishing to find the cause, the root, the blight at the heart of it all. Vivisection of me for all the world to see. Does it help? No, not really. Too often I have typed with a steady drip of tears spattering the backs of my hands even as I peck out a steady stream of insanity. Fortunately, those days are mostly past, but they still loom up out of the darkness for a surprise visit. Now, today, I am trying with every fiber of my being to get myself in check, silence the demons that seem hellbent on pushing me back over that familiar edge. It is a trip I have taken often enough that I recognize the path, and fight as best I can not to be dragged back down it again. I know I have the skills and weapons to put up a memorable fight, but g'damn I am tired of this constant battle. Once more into the breach, boys.