 
imagine, if you will, a girl sitting in a room, curled up on a chair and reading a book. it's a small room in a tower somewhere. no windows, just a wonderful wooden door. you can't see her face, but you know it's intent on the words before her. there is a knock at the door, she barely glances over. another a knock. a few more. a barrage of knocks. she puts the book in her lap and takes a deep breath before picking it right back up. the knocks stop. a few days later, the same scenario but now it's a rainstorm outside. she just reads. water starts to leak underneath the door, she just lifts her feet to not get wet and keeps reading. a few days more, it's something or some one or someones, trying to beat down the door. she just puts her chair in front of it and reads her book while sitting in it.
this is how i feel. this is how i relate to emotions for the past few years. i know they are out there, outside whatever shell i am in and i know that there is a possibility about me being effected by different actions, but no matter what i do or say, i can't feel my own emotions. oh, some tears fell when i heard sarah's mom died. i get choked up when i see movies or hear songs. if i hear a dog cry or women wail, i bite my tongue. i can still enjoy things, i know things are nice when i experience them. walking in my yard as the sun goes down, i know it's beautiful. my dogs excitement at seeing me is pleasing, but i don't FEEL these things.
i haven't felt much in years. i know it's there. i know it's right outside the door, so why don't i open it? cause i realize the lock isn't on the inside, it's on the outside. i blame that on years of mismedication for my varying mental illnesses. constantly switching around dosages, changing out to different pills all together, not listening to me, becoming so paranoid i couldn't even be near my dog, being so depressed i couldn't leave my bed, killing all happiness.
yes, you heard that right, they killed a good chunk of anything that makes me happy. one doctor outright told me she would rather medicate my mania than my depression because i would be more at risk to hurt myself with mania. i told her she didn't know me. she prescribed the drugs anyway and i took them because i thought "maybe i really don't know anything. she's the one that went o years of schooling."
once i realized that i couldn't feel jubilation anymore, i just outright stopped taking all the pills altogether, hoping to get some semblance back of emotion before heading to school. so far, nothing really.
i know i love my boyfriend. i know i love my dogs. i know i love sunsets and a good limeaid. i wish when i had all of this together i could feel happy, but no. i just feel grey.
i borrow emotions from things, i can't feel my own. if somebody in a movie is screaming, or it's a strong emotional scene, i tear up. if the underdog gets the girl, i huzzah right with him. if a song tells me about how much it hurts to be without the one they love, i yearn to feel that way as well. i yearn to feel.
i want to feel. i want to be free. i want the colors and the vibrancy emotions give. i don't want to just know anymore, i want to FEEL what i know.
i haven't cried in years. i did the night before cat's wedding. i think it's a breakthrough. it might be a glimpse of hope. it might be a sign that all is not forgotten. i cried and steven held me upstairs in cat's guest bedroom. why? because i missed my mother. my heart felt like it was going to break because i was jealous of all the mothering the mothers were doing to their children for their big day. it was driving the happy couple in sane and it was my job to "protect and deflect" as i jokingly put it. but the night before it all, i cried in steven's arms because i knew my mother would never be there for me should i ever get married. she won't fuss and get nervous and worry about every little thing until it became overbearing. she wouldn't be there to smile and cry as i kiss the man i would share the rest of my life with. she just won't be there and i was jealous in a way that was more flattering than greedy or selfish.
see that? what i did right there? everything is analyzed, nothing is felt. i used to wish i was a robot, but now i wonder why. no, i still know why but oh the foolishness of youth. it's so charming at times.
even the way i write has lost it's whimsy. it's why i haven't been writing here. this was my emotional outlet and when you have no real emotions to speak of, there is nothing to let out. the fact that since my emotions are what steered and gave my thoughts magic, the magic is gone and the words feel dull and flat, because they are. granted, i do have a love of sidewalks but this is a dull and flat not even a sidewalk could make wonderful. it goes no where. it just is. a haze. nothing more.
i need to find something to evoke my feelings and then keep them with me.
maybe they might make my hair shiny again.
the house is coming along so slowly, but it's the only way things can get done with almost no money. i got a job now, on my second week and have job security, that makes me happy. it's not fulfilling but the money is rewarding. the older i get the more i realize that what i thought was a fine pinpointed focus and goal, is way to broad and i have no fucking clue what i want to do with the rest of my life, so i'll do whatever that comes along. give it all a shot till i realize what i want to do.
i might take my first serious and most real vacation that is just for relaxing in my life in august. it's not a road trip. i don't know anybody there. not meeting up with anyone. going with loved ones. sitting in a hot tub and looking at mountains. paying for it myself. laughing, hopefully, and enjoying fresh air. no obligations, no demand, just chilling, laughing, and making good food.
did i mention i've been cooking like a mofo? even started dabbling into bread making. trying to make life cheaper, easier, happier, healthier for me and the one i love. crockpots, bread machines, learning the beauty of broiling, experimenting with sauces, even growing my own herbs.
i feel like the radiohead song: Fitter, Happier, More Productive.
( lyrics )
things are still beyond tight, but my sweety and i have given up on worrying about too much. we have each other, we're not starving, the dogs are okay, the cars run, we are okay. life is okay. everything is alright. i have hope, i spill optimism. i give hugs. i bake cookies. i am a shoulder for so many to cry on. i am a good person
(if only i could FEEL it. if only i could feel like anything is of value rather than of consequence).
i don't feel lack of inspiration, seeing as i ain't feeling much of anything these days, but i still do create without emotion. it made it into a nice routine. at least one ink drawing a saturday. more if i get bored or have time. experimenting with ink and watercolor. the feel of the fluid in my brushes makes a yearning in me but calms me. i am amazed at how much i enjoy ink, when in my early 20s i kicked and screamed against it, swearing only graphite for me. it was erasable, all mistakes forgotten. you can rework it to something totally different.
maybe it's the age thing. maybe it's psychological. i now like ink because you have to work with whatever mistakes you make and what works you can water down and make it even more beautiful. take that to whatever levels you want. would love to discuss. i like to break everything down. analyze everything. see where it comes from. why it is. what it means. where it's going. why why why.
i take walks in my yard. last night there were fireflies. i throw sticks for noir to fetch, cutlery sits right next to me. have taken up gardening. i have some rose bushes blooming and some potted plants. growing herbs and peppers. i'm quite busy. if i can't feel, i might as well put my hands to use with things that don't need emotions.
(i need emotions.)
( sunset walk around the yard )
it's a revelation what you take for granted, what you never saw before, realizations that never clicked or were made.
mostly, who you were important to.
when, where, and why.
the boy (man. i call him boy of his youthful energy he brings to me. it's as if we're ageless together) i live with, love, and share life with, said he's liked me since highschool. i asked him why he never flirted with me, he said he respected phil too much and that he tried. i asked how, he said he spoke to me, that was all he could muster.
my current boss is actually an old friend from my first bout of college. a girl i used to smile at because she was steady like a rock and creative in spirit, a pairing i never thought i could achieve. i went to her house for lunch on work day and she brought out a photo album, so many pictures of me in it. we were never close friends but i never thought she liked me enough to take photos, let alone keep them and cherish them. it's the impact you make on people's lives that are important, not so much as what you do for yourself.
this i know. this i've learned so many years ago but get humbled chance and chance again at the wonderful beauty of it all.
my best friend has photos of me throughout her house. artwork i tossed away, framed and hung. memories are brought up with giggles when we listen to music on the way home from work.
i want to feel something for these moments. i want to be something for these moments other than a... thing. a person without humanity.
i am a moral compass of my own. i make the right choices. i am kind, compassionate, giving, loving. i am a caretaker, i've fallen so easily into that role. i am a good person.
(i just want to FEEL like it. is that selfish? to even want to feel like i did something good rather than nod and know i did?)
what has modern medicine done to me?
they said they were treating for me depression.
from mania.
from manic depression and suicidal tendencies.
am i cured?
is this the cure?
did you know why some of the times i tried to kill myself was because i loved life so much...
now i'm alive and a better person and don't want to die.
(but i don't also really think i would care all that much if i did. it would be another experiance. something to think about. analyze. break down. find out why.)
i guess in essence i am cured.
but i lost so much in the curing.
so. much.
(i wish i could get it all back. where did it go? a part of me longs for like some fairytale adventure. an evil force took my feelings far away to a castle. my feelings are all brothers and sisters and sexless loves. they were fancy shoes and dance, to tap out morse code. they weave during the day and at night fly them out the windows as if waving a flag saying "find me! i am here!". i have to ride a giant swan that transforms back into an ugly duckling and we fly across the skies looking for the things that make me feel what exactly is important to me, rather than knowing. maybe in a labyrinth garden. maybe in a silk sack next to a witch who plans to take my love next. things so purely driven are vital essence... where is mine?)
In other words, I don't know where any of this is headed. But I suppose that's always been the goal.
-paul melancon
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