The Enigma of the In-Betweens

Recently, my neighbor introduced me to self-psychoanalysis in tandem with Internet prescriptions. I'm not a fan of either, but it seems to be working for him and has served as inspiration to pursue at least one of those through proper channels. So, I've sought out a referral for a psychiatrist or psychologist. I don't know the difference between the two, but felt that either could lead to a significant improvement to my general outlook on life. I think one can hand out prescriptions. I think that's the difference.

There is this verse in "Philosophy," which has always served as one of my personal theme songs, by Ben Folds Five that goes "I've seen that there is evil and know that there is good and the in-betweens I never understood. Won't you look at me I'm crazy, but I get the job done. Yeah, I'm crazy, but I get the job done."

So, I've finally decided to deal with the crazy part. It's worked out fine until now, but it's becoming an annoying novelty. It hinders this pursuit of normalcy that I may not even want, but wouldn't mind a taste. I'm finding that having a retirement fund, paying taxes in January, wearing black socks with decent shoes and occasionally sporting a tie for a wedding or a funeral is not the true definition of "normal" that I've always thought it is.

I imagine "normal" to be an acceptance of all that is. I'm always convinced that there is something more. Something better. Like this isn't the life that I'm supposed to be living, but I'm also convinced that perhaps the key to happiness is accepting that this is your life. Exactly what is is exactly what you are supposed to be doing. It's exactly what you are supposed to be satisfied with.

Lately it started with stopping going to the gym because honestly, who cared. Then I noticed that I was smoking more. Next I noticed that I didn't feel like putting toilet seat liners down in the work bathroom. After that it was a general lethargicness and finally all I want to do is to go home to my mancave and sleep. I get lonely, but don't want to be around anyone.

It's not as bad as that paragraph makes it sound, but it's still not happy. I still get up early on Saturdays and clean my apartment, drink coffee and listen to good music, but I'm lacking "reason." Not the reason that culminates in rational thought and good judgment, but really a question of "Why?" Why do anything? The personal satisfaction related to feats of awesomeness is dwindling. If a tree falls in the woods, it's proven that no one hears it. If I do something awesome, it's been proven that no one notices or cares. Christ, I made pudding pops one Sunday and also invented the Cashew Chicken Burrito and no one was around to share in the deliciousness. Actually, the pudding pops were kinda gross. I used banana pudding and no one likes that.

So, why? I'm sure it's all related to my environment. I'm in a toxic environment surrounded by toxic people in a work environment that could be categorized meteorologically the same way that a weatherman would describe the forecast for Seattle in November. It's gray. I've lost faith in the people that sign my checks and have been disillusioned by 9:00 AM more than most people get disillusioned all day. At home I've got a neighbor that makes me fear growing old, lonely, and creepy. I can see the cat lady waddle to the elevator with a pull-along cart full of cat food. She only lives on the second floor and has clearly given up.

Now, I haven't given up hope. Instead, I've looked for ways to improve the situation. I'm trying to eat three times a day. Definitely cut back the booze. I'm looking at new places to move to. I almost got a new job until I got Charlie Browned, which my Aunt described as a typical Hugh Voltage situation. It'd be fine if she had said Hugh, but she used my real name. I try to cook more at home and just keep myself busy, but I'm not sure where it's all going. So, perhaps this whole post is just a dry run for therapy, but regardless, I'm aware that there are some loose parts rattling around in my skull for the time being.

I was recently told by someone I've never met, yet someone that I talk to more than almost anyone in my life currently (thank you, by the way), that I look "normal" in pictures, but that just triggered a thought I had the other day while driving. I was looking in my side mirror and thinking about how it says "Objects in mirror are closer than they appear." I got home and was looking in my bathroom mirror and the statement flashed in my head again, but instead it said "Objects in mirror are farther away than they appear." Also, that person always manages to provide the pleasant surprises lately through music and books and just general pleasantries and somehow being there when the avalanche cascades. It seems that one of the few that seems to understand me, I've never met. Sounds like what some people consider God, but she talks back.

I'm sure it's just a case of the recurring Wednesdays (not good, not bad, the in-between day of the week), but I'm working on it and pretty sure I can get through it. It's mild compared to what I've made it through in the last five years and should be no sweat and involve less questionably legal activities. Yeah, I've got some scars, but should be fine moving forward.