In the last few
I am nothing if not a grade A hypocrite.
I am extroverted, in the true sense of the word. It doesn't necessarily mean a bright and bubbly, outgoing person, though I can be (Oscar worthy acting, remember? Meryl Streep took lessons from me), it means I rely on the energy of those around me. Being alone with my thoughts sends me in to a tailspin. I don't like my own company, never have. Perhaps it's why when I retreat, it's to Twitter... you're never alone when you have Twitter (spoken like a true geek).
I don't just take on the positive energy of those around me, but the negative as well. I soak in their emotions, like a warm bath, until I'm pruney, overwhelmed and feeling utterly hopeless. Their issues become my problems. Their loss becomes my heartache. Their desperation becomes my depression.
Part of myself that I hate, is the inability to compartmentalize and differentiate between myself and others. I don't just take on someone's emotions but I take on their personality as well. If I'm around you long enough, I start being you. That freaks the fuck out of a lot of people (not that I blame them, it would freak me out too), so, as a result, I keep my distance. Which means I'm back to my own, warped thoughts to keep me company.
It's a morose not-so-merry-go-round of trying to be near people then running away so I don't get too close. A tightrope balancing act that I'm yet to master, and there's no bloody net underneath to catch me. I'm sure there's a few more circus metaphors in there but I can't think of them right now.
Alcohol and twitter have become my crutch. Don't like your own thoughts? Go and read someone elses or drink until your own thoughts slur and you can no longer understand them. My saving grace is that Tricky is still breastfeeding and I know he'll be awake and wanting milk bright and early the next morning... but it kinda freaks me out that that is the only thing stopping me from completely annihilating myself some nights.
I've been actively encouraging him to wean lately, and it's partly so I can have my body back and put in it whatever I want, whenever I want
So no, I don't have my shit together, not by a long shot. But, if I put edible glitter in my wine, then at least my shit sparkles. I'm like a goddamn unicorn or something.