Paranoid - What the Hell is "Normal"and Why do I Want it?

Obviously I haven't written anything for a while, and that is for a few reasons, but mostly poor mental health and obsession with Rolife models. A lot has happened, and I don't remember it all and it's not important. I have been composing many ideas in my head, and that's how I know it's time to put my thoughts on virtual paper.

Let's talk about vinyl. My passion grows. A couple weeks ago I was having a tough day, so I settled in to craft. But I needed some music. I looked through my records and realized I hadn't cracked into the Black Sabbath "Paranoid" album. That is a crime. It also seemed fitting for my mood. I haven't listened to this album for a LONG time, so I didn't recognize the song names and was pretty sure I didn't know it as well as I thought I did. Wrong - I totally know and love this record! This record brings back a camping memory of course. I am pretty sure we were in Lillooet. My dad and I were obsessed with Fairies Wear Boots, obviously the imagery tickled us. So that was an epic song for its day. I have a feeling this is the trip when I was about 9 and there is a picture of me and my dad sitting at a picnic table. It is the last photographic record of my father without a beard. Mom, if you read this and have that picture, please send it to me. My dad's beard has long been a source of great pride for my father and at one point great irritation to my mother - I don't think she cares now.

Also a part of my listening adventure that day were:

Sehnsucht has Du Hast, which is where Rammstein began for me, like most people. We went to see them in Concert, I am pretty sure it was for that album, maybe the next. It was 2013 I think Kyle said. It was intense and amazing. You could feel the heat every time one of the torches belched out a giant ball of fire. And honestly, when Till straddled a cannon which spewed white foam all over the audience, the imagery was pretty obvious. So gutsy. We just saw them last year in Minneapolis and it was an awesome show then too.

I didn't know what to expect with the Foo Fighters. I don't dislike them, I think Dave Grohl is awesome and I don't even really know why. But I didn't think I'd know that much, but I expected it was pretty heavy, and that is what I needed at the time. Well, I knew all of the first record and totally enjoyed it. I didn't chance the second record because I was looking forward to my next selection.

Def Leppard Pyromania was a childhood favourite. I remember listening to it at that old house and I can almost picture it spinning on the turntable. I love it whenever I listen to it. I should probably have more to say about it, but the only thing I really picture in my mind, was the for some reason my cousin mentioned the hymn Rock of Ages, and to me that was only a Def Leppard song. Heathen.

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It's time to talk about art, and I have been working on some things I am really proud of. I am very pleased with my most recent painting - I haven't been painting canvases in a pretty long time, and this one really came out as I envisioned it. There are things I would change if I could of course, but I am certainly not going to scrape it off or anything. Someone inquired if it was for sale, and I want people to have pieces they connect with, so yes, I would sell it, but I didn't paint it with that intension.

Yeah, the Rolife problem. After Carl's Fruit Shop and the massive number of hours I spent on it, Kyle asked me if he should order another one, and I was like "hell no", but a couple days later I asked him to order me another one. He ordered 3. Uh oh. Well, they took me far less time and I worked though them obsessively of course. A friend saw Sakura Densya and asked me if I would build Time Travel and Magic House for her grandchildren. And I bought Sunshine Town for myself, it is under construction.

Okay, this is where I get serious. I am assuming no one gets this far, and I am just going to say what I need to say, and not worry about the length. Or probably the grammar. I seem to neglect that anyway.

Matthew won't go to school. I have been saying "every morning is the worst morning of my life" since he was in grade 8. Probably longer. Kyle was not impressed when I told his teacher that, but apart from the only blessing of COVID school from home, every morning keeps getting worse. In grade 10 he missed about 90 days of school, grade 11 over 70, and this year, the year he is supposed to graduate, I don't even want to know. This is an enormous sources of stress for me, and I can't yell and cry anymore. I'm going to say something unpleasant, but if you are bothering to read it, please know it has a happy ending!

A couple weeks ago I was going to the very bad place. It was only in jest, I would never kill myself - but the suicidal thoughts were there. My plan was to lay down two layers of plastic drop sheets (they are from the dollar store, they can't be trusted, and put a big black plastic bag over my upper body (I'd get a quality, strong one of those), and then if the throat slashing didn't do it, the suffocation would finish the deal. No one has to see the really gross stuff, and the cleanup is easy. Kyle argued that this very tidy scenario would likely look more incriminating to him doing it, and said he would prefer if I didn't do it. I agreed it wasn't as thoughtful when I said it out loud. So I guess, hopefully there won't be, next time I'll have to avoid the murder scene set up. I figure that really didn't fit with my prerequisite of non traumatic, inconvenient and gross. Eww. I would never do that to loved ones, and I would never be so selfish as to kill myself by any method. It's figurative for just wanting to disappear. Wishing I never existed. Feeling like a burden. These are the typical thought distortions of a depressed person, and, while I have yet find a way to stop the ridiculous thoughts, I am self-aware enough to recognize that they are a manifestation of depression and are, in fact, ridiculous. This means that I can defend myself to a degree, and I am often able to turn them around with a sense of humour. Even though I think CBT is too much work when you are feeling so down and just can't, I have spent enough time with the theory that I see the validity of what it teaches and I do what I can in the moment. Anyway, this is a giant bummer, and if I didn't delete it, I probably should have.

One day, a couple weeks ago, I don't know when exactly, it happened. I CAN! I just can! I can clean the house, organize my things, feel positive, and cope with stress. I don't know how this happens - it's not mania - but it is fantastic. Everyone in the house is happy and things stay tidy. The rule is that dishes must be rinsed and put in the dishwasher immediately, and the kitchen must be the same or better than when you left it. It's a hard habit for us, and we have slip-ups, but both Matthew and Kyle have told me how much they like it. It feels good to be at home, not wallowing in chaos. The house is by no means clean, but it looks fine without the white glove. It's at a point where I can tackle the details bit by bit and not overwhelm myself and quit. While I may still nap, it is a reasonable length, and I can be productive beforehand and be legitimately tired if I need it. Matthew still isn't going to school, and I am still flying of the handle sometimes, but not to the extent that I am having dark thoughts about excessive use of plastic and rendering myself un-recyclable. I am embarrassed and frustrated and I feel incompetent as a parent, but my brain is not screaming this at me. I love him so much, and I want to support him so he can succeed, but I can't do it for him, and I have to let him fail and not graduate if he chooses to. It's not an unusual choice for many teenagers. My dad calls it "The Stupid Years" when you think you know everything and you don't know shit. Everyone has to go through it, and it is what it is.

Several years ago, I had an amazing psychiatrist who actually gave a shit, and wasn't just dismissing me with a prescription after telling me how stressed he is. He could tell how I was by my body language and what I was wearing when I walked in the door. It was so shitty when he retired, but he was well in his 70's and he definitely earned his retirement. Anyway, one appointment he said I seemed pretty normal and I agreed that I felt pretty normal. Normal. NORMAL! Normal normal normal ... echoed around in my head. I have a journal entry from that time (I rarely journal), talking about how much work it is to be "normal". And it is. And sadly, I will never be normal, because what the fuck is that, I don't think it's really a thing. My normal is not great. As I put it, "my baseline is shit" sometimes I feel extra shitty, sometimes I feel a bit more enthusiastic, but I normally feel like shit. My so-called normal, is shit. So when I feel good, like I do now, I can accomplish things and feel good about myself, but there is a catch. How is it normal to constantly think about how I'm normal. My positivity is laced with fear. Will it last a couple days, will it last a month, what do I have to do to stay up? I don't know what made it happened, I was literally fantasizing about gore a couple days before, and very low. Then mysteriously the switch flipped. It happens sometimes - last time it happened I lost 80 lbs. But then it switched off and I gained 60. I think - the scale batteries are dead and I have no desire to change them. Right now my weight goals are not important, it is simply the fact that overnight my sugar addiction has ceased to exist, I don't care and I don't need to eat to soothe myself. It's not perfect, but I just don't go to the fridge, and when I do, I want carrots or something. It is completely bizarre. But again, I can't stop thinking about why it happened and what to do do keep it going. I know obviously I need to continue to eat healthier and exercise, but hey, I'm not cured! Exercise is on par with torture to me and I suspect it always will be. It takes a lot to get me there. I feel it though, because I CAN.