Fighting mania on one side, depression on the other

I don’t know how common this situation is; as I start to build my energy level back up it takes all the self control I’ve got to avoid going manic. I have to examine every single thing, is it advancing my goals or is it activity because I’m anxious and resent silence and stillness? More often the second thing.

Then, in the stillness, there is the temptation to sink back towards depression. Is a healthy middle ever going to be easier?

Of course it can, but will it? I used to be so sure, if I put my weight behind something, within reason, it seemed certain it would be done.  Yet I’ve always identified with the broken more than the healthy. I’ve always loved those unavoidably flawed more than the self assured. It’s time to admit, I see myself as unavoidably flawed.

At the helm of my life conjures up a brave image, but also fear. I really like the metaphor of Jack Sparrow’s compass, the one that points in whatever direction you want to go. The irony being Jack is like me; directionless, aimless, he recruits Will solely to have someone with a clear vision, with untainted desire. For a long time that was my hope too, to find people with untainted desire and drain them, much like a vampire. The fact is the well has run dry. Our entire species is in an aimless crisis and vampires like me are dying faster than the rest of you.

I don’t even know what I stand for anymore. Cussed determination, sure, but to what end? What are my values? Who am I trying to be? My whole life, behind every ambition was the fear of being aimless, of being nothing. Now I’ve tried to embrace it, I can’t say I’m much better from this end.

It’s one of the reasons I can’t interview much anymore. I don’t have a brand, or a sales pitch to lob at employers. I’m just… me, no more and no less. I really wish it was an option to go into the middle of the wilderness and meditate. I want that more than anything else. Let the world heal me.

but every sign of hope is a mirage, Fata Morgana the famous mirage seen by sailors on the open sea. I start in a direction, towards that mirage, and it evaporates. Hence I sit, unable to move in any direction, angry at that fact.

I’m doing the best I can, given the materials. That was my assessment of self today. The issue is I’m not happy with the materials. I want better options. Thinking about Cast Away (might be a theme going on here), life can be very simple when all that is needed is to survive.  Coming back is harder, and honestly in that example at least seemed ill advised. What was there to gain? And in return he traded his isolation and security. Apt metaphor there.

All the while I seek intimacy, I hide myself behind walls, parts of me are secret and may never be otherwise.

The man in me will hide sometimes to keep from bein’ seen
But that’s just because he doesn’t wanna turn into some machine

I wonder how much it would cost to go bowling?