escalated-quickly

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War paint

War paint

Okay, it’s been a LONG time since my last post, and well, I don’t really want to go into my personal life any more – people who know me know that I was stressed out by the kind of chaos that requires direct intervention by a deity or at least a trusted family doctor to allow me to sort my shit out in some way (in a nutshell) so that I could at least have *some* idea of when I have to get things sorted by – so basically… I melted down. I was so frustrated, stressed and unable to DO anything or know how long I had to do so anyway, before the term of this current living arrangement is up… that I got physically sick. Ran a fever induced by stress and fog of war, basically.

Hence, when I went to someone’s party, and there was face paint (and alcohol, and 20-and-30-something writers and journalists, and also fairy bread) I got David Bowie’s lightning bolt painted on. Glitter and all.

Which, had it not been A) a stinking hot day (seriously, I was sweating like a whore in church, just from the heat) and B) I saw some PDA and that was the last straw and I broke down and cried… let it ALL out… and rinsed my face before I left… I walked out of that party with what amounted to smeared, red paint all over my face, my left arm somehow, and one leg of my pants. Oh, and because you don’t go Bowie without glitter…. there was also glitter. Sweat, tears, water, paint, glitter.

The bus home stopped right outside this place that does karaoke on Saturdays. And that night was the last Sat of the month which meant, Rockaoke – it’s the same thing, but with a live band – and there were a group of rock fans my own age, who hate the gold coast as much as I do, and who loved me. I just sat down to relax. The rest of the night was a blur of awesome.

Then when I got home, I just collapsed, and went into fever, because this whole year has been an emotional roller-coaster from hell, with periods of soaring highs that, the SECOND the source is gone, send my crashing right back down to the lowest I’ve ever been. Uncontrollable sobbing ensues.

Hence my face paint… looked like war paint. And I make shell-shock, PTSD flashback jokes often.

This time wasn’t a joke. This time was for real. And my Xbox, which I’d been using to cope through my bad year, fell over and broke the game I was playing to unwind. My xbox broke, but it was more than just a machine to me. It was control.

Man, I wish I’d taken a photo before I showered. You regret some bad decisions that you went through with, and follow through to the bitter end. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, because that’s simply not true.

But sometimes, yes, the biggest regrets are the moments you didn’t capture, just let them slip. You know, like Eminem.

The silver lining to all this is, now everyone knows that I’ve been through hell and it made me physically sick. The sympathy – real sympathy – poured in after that. People actually lined up to see me after that, pretty much. People who haven’t made me a priority at all this year. Granted, yes, the last 12 months, everyone’s lives all changed drastically, en mass. Basically, life for me and everyone I knew took a grenade shower. So I don’t hold a grudge or anything like that – I am understanding that we’ve all been through hell this year, and it’s not just me saying that about myself. But I went through it alone, lost in the woods, and many miles to go before I could sleep.

But – and no, this isn’t the lesson here – I found that if I bitched about it hard enough, people finally listened.

A week of bed rest at mum and dad’s, a new chair (the awful ones in this place did a number of my neck after a while) and a stress handle thing (no idea what it’s called, I just know it means I don’t harm anyone or thing, always a preference when you have my psychotic side rise up like a Revenant and nowhere to go) and a tonne of binge watching TV and reading and taking it easy – with some anti-anxiety meds to help – did wonders for me.

Shit got real. I like to think I handled it like ┬áTerminator (which the music for just started playing, incidentally…). I didn’t, not even close, but I like to *think* that.

And I seem to be having pizza in the park after dark with a girl I know from Before on Wednesday. That’ll be good, for sure.