The High Road

I had a fucked sleep schedule last night. I fell asleep at like 1:30 then woke up all ready for life again at 2am. So I stayed up for a little bit, did some work, watched some Ugly Betty (yes, I happen to really enjoy the whimsical and emotionally honest nature of the show). and eventually went to bed a few hours later. During one of the times I got up I happened to look at my phone and saw that my ex business partner had a new account made for him on the software project I was just fired from. Coincidence? No, probably not. I didn’t think he was a piece of shit, but turns out he’s a real sack of garbage! And the client is a cowardly shithead too, lying to my face about being appreciative and happy with the work only to fire me and hire the guy that left our agency and tried to purposely and maliciously sabotage this contract anyway upon his exit.

These people are cowards. The two chickens I happened to encounter on a walk today had more integrity and bravery than those fucking dolts. This made me feel even better about having my time back. I may still be behind on bills by a few months and will have to scrape, struggle, and stretch longer than I wanted. But I’m rid of those fucks. They can suck each others dicks unto the stars and beyond — they’ve gone to plaid.

I’m feeling the mental fog lift a bit. It’s revealing some insecurities and stuff that I’m probably going to have to deal with sooner rather than later. I feel pretty inadequate overall, but don’t abjectly hate myself like usual. Despite having some success on one major thing like my diet and exercise culminating in weight loss, it’s revealing some other stuff just beneath these layers of fat and cigarette tar. I have been chatting with a really smart therapist on a dating app and earlier tonight she asked me to send a voice memo. I suppose it’s not an odd request, but I really hate my voice. It’s a major self-conscious thing that I don’t like about myself. Despite singing in bands, I really fucking hate all facets of my voice and audible speech. She has yet to write me back which just adds to me feeling inadequate, however she generally jumps offline early-ish, so it’s entirely possible it’s a coincidence.

All-in-all I think I’m doing relatively ok. I am at the no-smoking mark of week 4 when shit usually gets weird and dark out of nowhere. Because of this, I’m going to abstain from alcohol for the next month or so. I’ve got to get through this, continue and expand my exercise routine, and then maybe I’ll celebrate with my family when I take a trip to see them in May. There’s some shows coming up that gives me a little bit of pause regarding not drinking. However taking talks in public and loosely interacting with people, getting comfortable being seen, I think these are helping to alleviate my social anxiety. However, I am dreading the, “Hey man, let’s do a shot! Where’s your drink?” then having to explain myself.

Discussing this journey with the people close to me that interact with me daily has begun to teeter towards the bragging side of things. I started off at 249.8 lbs and am now down over 20 pounds from there. I’m able to communicate and respond to people much more honestly and clearly not having exhaustion from my metabolism working to digest bullshit and my brain craving nicotine.

My not smoking comes off as pious until I agree to go outside with whomever. Then they talk about how “proud” they are of me being able to go out there alongside them. Not to say they’re disingenuous, but I feel so bad for them. Genuine pity. They see what I’m doing as taking some incredible willpower or depriving myself, when I’m actually feeling better than I have in my memorable adult life — outside of being hopelessly and ridiculously in love…

The deep infatuation with another person is so hard for me to shake. It’s easily the most addictive thing I have ever experienced. And I seem to always get it hard. Being freshly in love with somebody is possibly the strongest and best drug I’ve ever done. Where you wish you could live inside each other’s skin, get an attachment surgery, move in right away, ask what they’re doing at every micro-second so you can find a way to edge in some time together… It is all encompassing and probably the thing I’m most afraid to quit. I’ve been using this feeling to cope with my depression, anxiety, and general stress but it’s not sustainable without leaving a trail of horror behind me. That’s not a fair way to affect the world. I should do something about this.