Check please! Where is the exit?

Week 2 has started on the Art and Soul Reloaded self-workshop created by Pam Grout and I’m already behind.  Time seems to slip from faster each day.  My energy is zapped and thoughts of just quitting life creeps up on me without worrying if I hear its footsteps or not.  Quitting is very attractive and luring,  it’s no longer coy about its intentions.

Starting a new journey isn’t easy.  Oh you know the whole every journey of a thousand steps starts with the first step which is the hardest, it goes something like that, I think.  Anyway, I not only started one, but I started two.  With great hopes this is the direction of which I should be taking in this life.  What is the second journey you ask?  Or did you, or was that my Cory stepping in again.  Well, let’s appease everyone.  I started a 40 training class for a possible job of which I have an interview for on the 17th.

It’s not as if I’m not educated and qualified, but even the most educated need some extra training right.  It only took me 4 days in which to decide whether or not to spend the $99.00 on the class.  Yep, that’s me, very very confused at the moment.

This is what the world of a depressed person deals with daily.  No one has a clue, I smile, seem self-confident, quite funny if I say so myself.  Yet, as each year goes by, I become quieter and quieter.  My energy, will, motivation, how ever you’d like to term it, is waning.  Maybe because I’m getting older and my ‘giving zero fuck’s’ list is growing more and more each day.  Who knows, but it’s getting darker in here and I’m beginning to like it.

In being confused when anyone attempts to discuss a situation or decision that has taken you a quite bit of time to be comfortable with, tries to discuss the positive or negative side of it, when you’re barely hanging on to the idea of the decision, well, it knocks you on your ass.  Yes, I have a decision bully around me all the time.  Not encouraging, unless this person believes it’s the best for me, or them, or somebody else who isn’t me and doesn’t have my issues.  When they start talking, I search for the exit, breathe deep and sigh as a hint to shut the fuck up and leave me alone or I just may jump into that nice warm comfy dark abyss inside my mind.

Challenging someone like me is like bleeding around a shark.  I will attack and I will flee after the attack.  You poked me, tempted me, now leave me the fuck or alone or I will eat you.  I forgive those who don’t know me, or if it’s in a work situation.  Yet, those who know me, well, you must be a glutton for punishment.  Or maybe, you just like being a decision bully, dream killer.  You may call it being a devil’s advocate, I call it being an asshole.

So today, I go forward, holding my head up high, trying to figure out where the next ‘step’ is going to be and how painful will it be when I take it.  I can tell you one of the steps is going to be in role-playing.  It’s not something I can do or want to do.  Ask me to pretend a grown-ass adult is a child…yeah, how is this even relevant and productive.  Its not, nor can it be and I believe a lot of good people may have been turned away due to a poor role-playing interviewing attempts.  Some people are just better at hands on operations, not fake playing.  If I could fake-play, I’d become an actor and laugh all the time.

Can I have the check now, and where is the exit? Thank you.

Positivity is for people who don’t trip over their own feet.

This morning my mind isn’t straight, its confused and jumbled, no more than normal really, I just know how to pull it off and appear reasonably normal.  However, this is the morning where I feel the weight of worthless. Well, the lint in our belly buttons, just waiting to be washed away because there really isn’t any purpose for my existence.  I wake with anxiety, not knowing where my future is going or how I got here.  Or the $64,000 question, why am I here??? How do I manage at some point in my life to feel worthy of not being worthy?

Truly, there isn’t any question, nor answer, nor potential for this human I call Barbi.  At the age of 54, I’m here, using up resources, commanding attention through blog posts, shouting for anyone/someone listen to me and give me an answer to this thing called life.

Part of my problem is watching and observing others.  Yeah, comparative thinking is for losers, boom, I did it again.  Anyway, for example, Michelle Obama, we share this age, and check her out, look where she is at, how and what force of nature or humanity lifted her to her amazingness[guaranteed, she doesn’t have a Corey inside her noggin]?  She is truly remarkable, and no matter the effort or struggle, it seems I falter at every attempt to be more than I am at this moment, and I’m pretty sure Pathetic is the name of  the described treadmill of which I’m chained.  And yeah, I don’t subscribe to the philosophy, ‘you can be whatever you want’, that’s bullshit.  *hands my shoes to over to you* Do they fit, how does it feel? Fucked, right?

Can I be whatever I want without all the judgment, criticism and come-on don’t act like that diarrhea, constant judgement, judge yourself for a while and leave me the fuck alone.  When you wake up as the driver of my soul, then we can talk, until then, leave me alone with all your old age judgy-ness and hypocritical assumptions of what is right or wrong.

I’m not asking for pity or sympathy, really not asking for anything.  I know this journey is mine, and I know my motivation to move to the next level, well, obviously, actions do speak louder than words, I’m not going anywhere.  A consistent flatliner, I am.  An exalted pathetic human not doing any good anywhere for anyone.

Describing my existence is futile, its only an act for self-pity and really firming up the foundation of my worthlessness.  There isn’t ANY perfect job, the perfect weight is unattainable, even my writing, well, really, let’s be honest, it’s sub par.  My thoughts race and are way to fast for me to catch.  My opinions are less than helpful to anyone.  And yet, I’m still here.

Now,  there is conundrum of curiosity and confusion, no answer, no reason, I got nothing. Yet, plenty there to judge.  It’s not that I don’t love fully or know that I’m loved.  Yet, I feel I fail everyone around me, not accomplishing shit, just maintaining, again that fucking treadmill I call life.

Watching you all, and what  you can accomplish on a daily basis, I so admire your passion  and how it moves you forward, manifesting the wonderful life you appear to attain. .  I ask, what is different in your brain than mine, why can’t I stay motivated  and move forward?  This brain of mine shifts from one thing to another, sort of like Frogger, seemingly craving the ultimate end of being smooshed over and over, thus  required  to start all over again, never making it to the other side

Is my issue, not going with the flow…yeah, that is a problem and I have a problem with that…and yet, I’m still  here.

I see sunshine, only to see that it blinds me

I see water, only to see that it  drowns me

I see life, only to see that it will end with nothing to show for it.

A vague memory of this goldfish swimming upstream

Swimming against the natural flow of life

I see surviving, only to see it as nothing

…and yet, I’m still here.

There aren’t answers, just more questions.  I’m too old for this and know moving forward is a null result in factoring the worthiness of my life.  I worry about judgement of those close to me, the painful criticism of a few that see me and have to state that I’m  not behaving appropriate or ‘showing’ too much.  Who says its wrong?  Where is that wonderful  book of life [and if you say bible, I will hit you with it, virtually or not, you best duck] and all its instruction to get through this nightmare?

Where are the teachers, the professors, the aged wised ones that show us the way through the matrix, all I can guess is that all these lessons have me mastering the art in treadmillism.  A masterful way of going nowhere and maintaining complacency  with a side of boredom.

My truth may not be your truth, or it may be close to some kind of truth out there [quit shaking your fucking head, you look like an idiot, see how it feels, my life in a nutshell] and if it resonates with someone to help them just a little so not to feel alone, then laying myself out there raw and exposed is worth it.

I’m damaged, and I know it.  I really do try to make the best out of it and most of the time I fail and fall like an ACME anvil on Wiley Coyote’s head.  Being positive fails me because of my furrowed brow of darkness that casts shade over my existence.

So wherever this blog posts lays, whoever reads it, and however the Universe plans to address it, so let it be…because truly,  positivity is for those who don’t trip over their own feet…and yet, I’m still here.

I’m going to post this now, faults, grammatical errors and all because really, life is faulty and I’m a human example of that very fact.