Well, here we are again in shit. I always overreact. And there we are again, with the always and never thinking. Always and never. I wish I wouldn’t have let something get to me so much that I let it derail my long term plans. I suppose I am again, o v e r r e a c t i n g. Due to personal pressure. Personal perfection. This drive to never do wrong, or to perceive any perception of wrong to be terrible and make me out to be the worst human being on the planet. A personal castigo. That I deserve some type of punishment because I made the wrong choice. Because I withdrew from a class that I spent money on. In the midst of buying a home. In the midst of a 40hr a week job. A job that has a goal to kill any shred left of creativity. In the midst of not having a cigarette for almost 2 months. In the midst of being sober one year and 5 months today. I could really use a beer. Goddamn that dos equis with the salted rim on the commercial last night looked REALLY good. In the midst of my close friend’s birthday (his birthday was yesterday) had he not overdosed eight years ago. And of course I am punishing myself for not visiting his grave. I’ve never been to his grave. And there, that’s something to punish myself for. For a person (me) that visits so many graves, how could I have not visited his yet? What a terrible person, what a terrible friend I am. In the midst of the anniversary of my marriage, which lasted about 18 months, where on this day,  I am reminded that I am a divorcee and not even 40 years old. Not even 39 years old. A reminder that I shouldn’t have even married that shit stain of a…well I don’t even want to use the word ‘man’ so I pause. And then I would like to punish myself for even pausing, for even wasting a minute or minute second on that person. 

And we pause. It’s been a lot. It’s been a lot lately. But the inner critic runs in the shadows. And shows up wickedly. A trickster spirit inside me. I see it as some icky, evil (I paused from using that word, there it is again), slimy, conniving snake. But I’d hate to insult snakes with that comparison. Something tragic and abusive. Is it all the pain and abuse experienced in my life up to now  that has created it? Maybe at one time it kept me safe. Maybe there was a purpose for it once a great long  while ago. 

I sometimes wish deep down inside that I weren’t like this. Like how did I become this way? Why the o v e r r e a c t i o n ? How did I find myself this way? Will I ever recover. Sometimes I think so, and sometimes I think not so much. But I’ll never know. Again, I am spinning every thought, every possible solution, knee jerk reaction, that same behavior that got me into this shitty feeling. And this shitty day. I swear it’s not completely my fault. I absorbed some energy and it spun me sideways. So spun. Iconically spun. Sure, sure, it could be viewed by the reader, perhaps, that I am the source of all my own suffering. But maybe there is a dear reader that has some empathy for me, maybe someone has felt the same way. And also, yes, I likely am the source of many (but not all!) of my sufferings. O v e r r e a c t i o n s.

This isn’t over I tell myself. Or something tells me. Where does that come from? Who is that? Where does the voice of reason come from? At least it’s there. God, I’d really love to have a cigarette. I’d love one. But I’m not sure I could afford one. I think there’s maybe $18 in my checking account. Everything is on hold. Don’t spend a dime. Freddie Mac’s homebuyers class told me not to buy any coffee or clothes, but didn’t say anything about cigarettes. 

I couldn’t do that to Jenny. She was so good, a great therapist, rather “Jungian Analyst”. I think we had some differences, and I can’t sit still in a provider’s office, but at the same time  I wish we could have had three sessions a week. One of my good (or not so good?) traits is that I am loyal, to a fault I like to say, but either way, the loyalty to her, due to our months together, stops me from breaking down and throwing cigarettes on the credit card. 

I suppose I’ll get through this no good shitty day. And perhaps I’ll stop beating myself up over the bullshit o v e r r e a c t i o n. Perhaps I have learned something. Maybe I won’t flake out on the church newcomers dinner. I am tired. The sun is out, maybe it will get to 65° today. That’s right, I started going to church, I was craving ritual and connection. God I’m mad I ditched that course. But I may be less mad about it in a month or two when I’m moving all my shit from a city of 171k to a town of 10k. There are bright spots. 

Hopefully I can afford the hotel next week. One of my poems was selected as a finalist.