I am emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. I cannot go on.
I'm sorry. I feel like I'm letting all of you down. But I've had enough.
Like all good benders. This one must come to end. It is with this knowledge and great sadness, that I tell you that the Partygirl is taking herself out of the social circuit for at least two weeks. If I could afford Betty Ford, I would sign myself in. For I am totally and utterly spent and frankly, I can think of nothing more comforting than laying down on cool white sheets, in a glorious white walled room and hearing the sound of "checks" or "group" as time passes in the guise of days and weeks.
That dream is my Salvation.
Some people dream of love and security, fame and fortune. I dream of calm and serenity. I tread carefully in work and play because I know that when I reach that point, that breaking point, when I am sleep deprived and have pushed myself to the brink of oversocialization, what it all boils down to is: saving myself.
My life is a pattern. I burn the candle at both ends. I want to give everything I do every molecule of energy I have in my being. It's all or nothing. I know that inevitably I will crash and because of that, I work even harder to do it all before the crash.
Do you understand what I am? I'm not sure I do. Here goes:
Everyday of my life, I feel breathless. I am running. I am racing myself internally. Sometimes I am lightheaded, even at work, and I will take a minute and remind myself to breathe and then I keep going. I have an inner joy that makes me feel like I am spinning around in circles with my hands elevated at my sides, do you get it? Do you remember when you would do that as a child? Spin and spin? Laughing and laughing with your eyes shut? Rolling down a grassy hill on your side? Running into the ocean in the midst of a storm, tossing in the surf that is 100 times stronger than you will ever be, and understanding that you have totally lost control and going with that? Hoping that the underbelly of the current spits you back up.
That is how I feel much of the time. Until the candle burns out.
Sometimes when the candle burns out, I just feel like I am walking in total blackness. Blackness the likes of which you can't even see your hand in front of you. But you hear your thoughts being shouted at you. Your worst, innermost criticisms that you bury because you know you are too hard on yourself, that your mind heartlessly throws back in your face. It's the most awful thing, to hear these cruel thoughts screaming uncontrollably in your head. It's like being locked into a room and verbally tortured but no one can save you. You have wait it out. Eventually it stops, this internal screaming. And you realize you have been white-knuckling your pillow. It's been a long time since I've been there. Years. But I can remember.
Usually when the candle burns out now, I am just exhausted. Twice a year, I suddenly realize that I live this crazy existence, and I just need to stop. I need everything to stop. Suddenly, what was once breathless and dizzying in a good way from spinning with joy, begins to make me feel nauseous and upset. Dinners and drinks and jaunts around town become tedious. The champagne begins to taste like vinegar. Liquor makes me gag. And the worst part for me is that I can't smile with my eyes. They are lifeless. They are, in a word, TIRED.
I try not to overthink during these periods. Because, that is a recipe for disaster. I know I'm not crazy. I know that everything will work out, because it always does.
Sometimes I lay there and I pray that I will be found during this time by my soulmate. That he will somehow miraculously appear and save me from this self-imprisonment. Delusional, right? No, I think we all think this way. Isn't that the point of organized religion? Giving the masses something to look forward to - promising life after death as a reward for living peaceful, productive lives?
Yes, perhaps The One will come and keep me company while I withdraw from the rigors of life. He doesn't even have to say anything, he just needs to be there, beside me, staring at the same point in my ceiling that I stare at, thoughtlessly. Tracing circles on my hand with his finger.
The candle has burnt out. Please send someone who likes to play with fire.
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