Another few days, boxes of tissue, (mostly) sleepless nights.  When I sleep, I dream.  The dreams are never pleasant, though I did bludgeon a few people to death with golf clubs the other night (in my dreams!).  Fun times.  I could probably write an interesting book just with what my dreams are these days.  Vivid doesn’t even come close to the stunning clarity I achieve.  Irony is, that in my waking hours my brain feels totally muddled.  I can be doing something as simple as eating breakfast, when suddenly I find that my bowl of cereal has gone completely to mush.  Guess I “spaced out” again.

My life feels like I am putting in time.  Putting in minutes, hours, stringing them into a day.  Looking at the clock deciding when to just give up on getting any more sleep, when I should eat.

Turns out that, for me, lots of stress equals weight loss.  Not a lot of activity, but maybe the forgetting to eat is part of it.  Either way, side bonus — my clothes fit better than they have in ages.  Talk about a silver lining.  Meh.

On the topic of frustration.  It seems like everywhere I turn the road ends in frustration.  The Victim Witness Assistance Program (VWAP) worker seems to be nothing more than a secretary for the crown attorney.  I send her an email, she forwards it to the crown.  A frustrating answer comes back.  What is the most frustrating is realizing that being a good person, being the better person, doesn’t necessarily mean the best result.  See, I can write letters and talk until I am hoarse, but none of that is changing things.  That is what frustrates me.  After living most of my life feeling like a bad person, working really hard the last two years to learn I am not, I think that maybe being a “bad” person is what is required here.  All of the proper channels are failing me, so maybe it is time to go the improper route, the “less than” route.  The “wrong path” or the “low road”.  I just don’t know.  Everything seems pretty damn pointless right now.

My life is being replicated in my vegetable garden, where it is plain to see.  I took a patch full of weeds (me before), cultivated the soil and removed the problem plants (two years of therapy and working on myself), but yet every week when I go back many of the old weeds have returned (my constant doubts about myself) and some new weeds have popped up (my ongoing battle with court and whatever new problems pop up like a broken oven, car accident etc).  I keep working away, clearing those weeds, but every week many of the same ones pop up, the new crop seeds itself, and so for a while it looks fine (a few days) and then it gets overgrown.  Much like I can fake my way through small things, an appointment, getting a few groceries, when it comes down to it, I am getting overgrown by my own thoughts and problems.  Mostly, I am tired.  Tired because I work and work and work, every second of the day, and my brain and body are just so tired of fighting.  Some days I want to just let the weeds grow, progress be damned, let the whole thing go to seed, see what will really happen.  Other days I just want to maintain.  I pull a few weeds, I let others grow.  Sometimes I wonder what the beautiful mess would look like if I just let the weeds go crazy.  Would any of my vegetables bear fruit nestled among the wild and crazy?  Would the vegetables be choked out, the way I am feeling choked out, and just wither and diminish and die in the soil.

Food for thought.

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