The frequency is increasing again, I miss it like a security blanket, except it's so destructive and I also hate it. I can't pinpoint what the trigger was exactly, but I know I don't want a full blown relapse here. There's so much built up inside of me, just the way to deal I guess.

Maybe the trigger was my mother. She came to visit with my dad. Asked me, "you're not still doing that thing" or however she worded it. She caught me off guard, and I had, less than a month ago. So I stumbled, and she tip-toed around it. Pissed me off she even asked I guess. None of her business is what I could have said.

Instead, I let it fester and take root, and now there it is. You're not still doing that thing are you? And I guess what I hear is "do the thing!" Since we're focusing on it now. Might as well do the thing. It's there, out in the open, waiting. It got it's attention (didn't even ask for it) and now it is feeding on itself.

Sometimes we all need our secret hiding places, guess this is mine. Except this was like an invitation - do the thing, do it, self-destruct so I can live vicariously through you in your despair. Keep being sick, we need you to be this way, we don't know you any other way. Why are you handling this time of such hardship with being so positive, that's so unlike you, we expected you to break down.

It's so shocking isn't it,
why would I ever do anything well?
Or handle anything?
Or get through something with a certain amountof grace and perhaps even thrive sometime.
Why would I handle anything with strength?
Why would I ever get ahead?
It's just like me to be broken, sad and depressed all the time. Not really any room for improvement there!

And did you just think, really, I mean really, that you were going to waltze back in and get a job, just like that? That easily?

Really? I mean really.

And really, I should learn forgiveness, cause that was from two freaking years ago when she said that about the job thing, Well don't worry, mom, I guess not. I won't be doing much in the way of achievement at all these days and times and it's enough to just be barely scraping by, on the precipace, of mere existance.

Live/don't live. Who cares?