I know i called this category my daily drug journal and I know that it isn’t being modified every day any more. I’m actually surprised how long the daily updates stayed daily considering what life on a farm in the mountains in British Columbia can be like.
It’s pretty much exactly like it was yesterday, and the day before. In fact, it’s pretty much the same ever day, which is why I’m so frequently unaware even of what day it actually is. I just figured out I missed the Family Day holiday this year. It came and went without noticing, not that I would have done anything different had I known.
There is nothing different. The only significant change in my life over the past few weeks if February is how long I can keep using drugs after I declare I’m out. That, and the Saturday Night Live 50th anniversary show that I watched last weekend are the only two stand out topics of conversation to blog about for the whole cold snowy month.
And by conversation , I mean this blog, because I don’t really talk to anybody anymore. I ghosted both the woman I used to converse with without any good reason. I just stopped and never started again, despite being totally aware it is the most shitty thing I’ve ever done to another human in my entire life, and I did it twice.
I gave up the obligation of talking about having nothing to talk about with two people who really cherished that link. I regret the way I did it, but I don’t think I want to confess it and re-open that wound. All friendships in my life have stopped communication abruptly, but those two were more deliberate and cruel. I felt they really needed my support so much it became a responsibility I cut so rudely.
Because of the way I live my life, the relationships were both more one way. I like to feel needed and helpful but when it approaches the level where it’s needed so much, I feel pressured to keep moods happy or guilt is applied then the enjoyment becomes another chore. I don’t enjoy the role of human caregivers. The farm animal rely on me and I don’t even do that perfectly. Don’t rely on me to maintain your sanity too. It’s too much.
I can’t decide if that is a legitimate reason for what I did, but I am certain it doesn’t excuse the way I did it. There is no excuse for me being such a dick to people and calling it a mental health issue. I try to be better than that. Maybe being a prick now and then is an unconscious way of proving to myself I am not. I fail at being good so I can feel bad and imperfect.
The obligation of perfection is not sustainable.
7am now. Time to scrounge for drugs and wash the guilt away. Time to not think about life and just go feed the chickens again.
And again.
And again.
