Why I Hate Dissertating (as it turns out)

Forgive me for not writing. I have been behaving as an adrenaline junkie and keeping myself manically busy, because when I slow down this is what happens:
1. I feel a sadness creep into my heart.
2. I begin to get really anxious
3. I start to think that anything, even oblivion would be better than this feeling, that it will never pass and nothing will ever be right again.
4. I berate myself for my incapacity to feel serene in the face of mere hours of solitude these days.

I used to love days spent alone at home writing. I used to love the quiet, the creativity of it. But then I started living alone (against my will), and it became too isolating while dealing with all the trauma of the past couple of years. I have developed this horrible routine, which I’ll sum up in another list:

1. Plan to get up at reasonable hour
2. Turn off alarm because the idea of dealing with another day is too overwhelming
3. Get up late, feeling guilty, sluggish, and a bit depressed
4. Sit down to write hours after I had planned to
5. Get seized by a wave of melancholy/anxiety that can only be thwarted by distracting myself
6. Don’t get anything done, or produce a mere paragraph of terribly written garbage
7. Settle into despair and stress

There are plenty of good things going on my life. I keep meeting wonderfully kind new people and trying all sorts of awesome new things. I am one month into a new relationship. But I don’t trust myself at all right now. I question everything I say and do around him, and am convinced he’s about to reject me and leave… I think this because I am not in a good place mental-health wise, and it must be, must be obvious. I keep getting this sense that I can tell him all of this and he won’t judge me, but I won’t because my fear that he’ll get freaked out is so much stronger. We’re generally a very good match in terms of the amount of contact/communication we need and expect, and that’s so important- but my current work-related loneliness has me in a zone that’s outside my normal level of need. It’s like… people/distraction desperation. I’m so beyond grateful when someone reaches out to me and helps alleviate the pain and loneliness that I almost cry constantly these days. Honey, if you ever read this… normal me is not this needy. Actually, normal me is even a bit too independent at times.

Something (obvious?) that occurred to me today that gets a wry smile: If you feel like you’re falling in love with someone after a month, and then the relationship falls apart, it seems a bit crazy and wrongheaded in hindsight. If it works out then it was simple romantic foresight. I dunno… so many things in new relationships are subjective, contingent on how both people feel. If the infatuation is imbalanced one person’s enthusiasm can come off as desperate, clingy, etc. It’s kind of like wanted/unwanted attention in other areas of life, y’know? Clearly I was married for too long, because I have so little tolerance for romantic uncertainty. It’s not exciting and fun for me, it’s just another way my life is a series of ???s at the moment.

I have a housemate set to move in on May 24. This can’t come soon enough- I feel like when that happens I’ll just EXHALE. I’ll be able to stop operating from a place of crazy desperation.

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