What does a single lonely guy turning 70 need?
I don't know. Do you? Send answers.
I would have said "safety" for years, and at the time I was probably right. I desired and needed safety and I looked to my wife to help meet that need.
I would have said "safety" for years, and at the time I was probably right. I desired and needed safety and I looked to my wife to help meet that need.
Like the holocaust movie where the father (Giovanni Ribisi?) convinces his son that their concentration camp is a vacation together, I sold myself on the idea that I was happy and in a good marriage. Colored in the grey with bright reds and deep Sierra blues. Vermont fall colors.
I needed safety that much. Whenever it rained, which was often weekly, my colors would drain and I'd dry my paper and begin filling in between the black lines again.
Alone, the light is dim, but the colors I apply stay where they were put. I avoid black as much as I can.
I'm not safe, but I accept the way it is. I don't feel unsafe. Just sad. (I think my increased dose of anti-depressants is numbing me—I don't like that. I think I'll decrease the dose soon after this experiment.)
Safety has changed. I just don't want to be hurt or sick. I want to protect my cat from all harm. I "need" to protect her. I hope to protect myself. That's what I think.
I'm numb to friendship and love. ❤️ I don't know if that really matters now. Other-centeredness left me bankrupt emotionally. I think I am learning to prefer introspection, despite the sadness. I have this opportunity to spend days upon days getting to know me now.
I need rest always. The medicine is definitely not helping there. For the first time I'm sleeping irregularly. Another reason to reduce the dose soon. I'm starting to have nightmares...another one early morning today. I've also been drinking while in London--social dinners every night and I'm close to 3/4ths of a bottle of wine on average for the last six nights. I was home alone one night...thank goodness. No alcohol to mess up the chemistry.
I needed safety that much. Whenever it rained, which was often weekly, my colors would drain and I'd dry my paper and begin filling in between the black lines again.
Alone, the light is dim, but the colors I apply stay where they were put. I avoid black as much as I can.
I'm not safe, but I accept the way it is. I don't feel unsafe. Just sad. (I think my increased dose of anti-depressants is numbing me—I don't like that. I think I'll decrease the dose soon after this experiment.)
Safety has changed. I just don't want to be hurt or sick. I want to protect my cat from all harm. I "need" to protect her. I hope to protect myself. That's what I think.
I'm numb to friendship and love. ❤️ I don't know if that really matters now. Other-centeredness left me bankrupt emotionally. I think I am learning to prefer introspection, despite the sadness. I have this opportunity to spend days upon days getting to know me now.
I need rest always. The medicine is definitely not helping there. For the first time I'm sleeping irregularly. Another reason to reduce the dose soon. I'm starting to have nightmares...another one early morning today. I've also been drinking while in London--social dinners every night and I'm close to 3/4ths of a bottle of wine on average for the last six nights. I was home alone one night...thank goodness. No alcohol to mess up the chemistry.
I'm sure mixing anti-depressants with large glasses of a strong depressant is making things worse. I have two more nights of this...will try to stay away from drinking as much as I can. Then I go home to Tahoe and no social plans.
I'd like quiet. Music isn't always helpful and I don't dance anymore. I can hear planes at Heathrow from my bed. I don't like that. Each takeoff reminds me that I have nowhere in particular to go, or to be.
I like to be warm. I've always liked it. Under a blanket or my sheets. All was fine until the terrible nightmare--about my ex. She just won’t get out of my head and she’s destroying me. She’s such a total asshole and she's gone viral in my head. Get out of here--you and I know you never had anything to share or offer. Arrrrgh.
I'd like quiet. Music isn't always helpful and I don't dance anymore. I can hear planes at Heathrow from my bed. I don't like that. Each takeoff reminds me that I have nowhere in particular to go, or to be.
I like to be warm. I've always liked it. Under a blanket or my sheets. All was fine until the terrible nightmare--about my ex. She just won’t get out of my head and she’s destroying me. She’s such a total asshole and she's gone viral in my head. Get out of here--you and I know you never had anything to share or offer. Arrrrgh.
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