refugee

Housesitting for another person. There is a dog and a cat involved, and a whole new house for me to hang around in, trying not to make too much of a mess of. It's a nice change of scenery from someone else's house I normally spend my days trying not to make too much of a mess of. This isn't my life. I'm just living it for a while.

I can't relate to people, so I found this hack where I keep going to the same place a few times a week, year after year, doing the same activities with the same people, and it felt almost like having friends. I knew it was lacking in some key ways, but it sure beat sitting around by myself blogging in the vague direction of imaginary readers.

I never formed any real relationships with any of them. I was still working on that, engaging with a few of them a little more here and there, experimenting with being a little more prosocial. In the meantime, training together was everything to me. Now I'm just alone and aimless again. All those years of work scattered to the wind.

Nothing is getting better. My life has been destroyed. What little I'd managed to hold onto through these last few miserable years, all gone. The life I'd worked so hard to establish for myself was what kept my mental health under control. I can't function without it.

I can't blog anymore without just doing this over and over. It's the truth and none of my philosophies about anything ever mattered. I can't even figure out how to find housing for myself. I'm not a wandering philosopher, just another abject failure of a human being in a world full of suffering.

anchored

I can't heal, recover or move forward with my life, as long as my heart is still in Vermont. Everything I do here is just passing time until I can go back to having a life. I don't know why I'm like this, but I've long known being forced to move is terrible for me. 

This is even worse, because I can't move. It's an indefinite extended visit. I don't want to fully move here, and it isn't viable anyhow. Rents are even higher here in Philly than in Vermont, and I fucking liked Vermont!

I chose to anchor myself there for lots of reasons, much as I chose to train MMA for lots of reasons. I don't know what it's like to be anyone else, but I can't just chose to do things for which there aren't enough reasons, much of which has to do with what I need to manage and overcome my mental health issues, whatever we want to call that.

I'm clinging to the pain of what I've lost because it's all I have, all that's worked for me. Do you have any idea how hard it's been to find anything that's worked for me?

Maybe I need a therapist here. Maybe I should try meds. Except I've tried all that and so much more. I've moved from state to state nine goddamn times.