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It’s been a while…

So now I’m existing in this limbo, or grey area of society. That area between isolating, ignoring messages and social media and going out, drinking, getting stoned and Facebooking. This limbo is a shitty place to be in and exposes me to other souls crawling around in their own grey limbos with their own sad stories and hang-ups. We all have this one thing in common – we don’t fit into the normie mould. All of us have some evil /secret/ embarrassment/ addiction/ kink that we do not want others to know about. Cue social media, where you can be anyone you want to be. You can be skinny, drop-dead gorgeous with long legs and big tits or 6 feet tall with muscles and crystal blue eyes and no-one will know!

I’ve been busy… trying to make friends, trying to be social, and distancing myself from new friends because of people, ‘normies’, and their human habits. Trying to go off some of my meds (not advised)…getting back on my meds (still a shit-show, but at least I know I will be OK in a couple of months). Going off them was an insane idea and just what my psychiatrist said when I shared my “brilliant” plan… as I said. I’ve been busy. 

And here is the snag. I isolate and live like a hermit because sounds, colours, and motion distract me and make me a stupid person. I get confused and can’t follow a simple conversation. I forget what I was going to say or why I’m there or what I’m doing, but I yearn for real closeness, real friends, real relationships. I lie alone in bed at night… well not alone, my rabbit sometimes nibbles my hair in the middle of the night, but you get what I’m saying. All the other people in this grey sludge just want to stay isolated, never meet in person, and just continue to catfish and bullshit while revelling in their isolation and will do so forever. I want to be able to see a face, hear a raspy/squeaky voice, and see little nuances when in conversation with someone… so I start conversations on social media. What else am I to do? I never go out. My old life, passions, and aspirations belong to the chick that died that night on her bike. And I’m asking myself, as I’ve done numerous times in the past, ‘Why the fuck am I doing this?’  blogging and sharing my thoughts with random people who really do not give a flying fuck and end up here by mistake. Allow me to ‘sommer’ answer…

• I’m alone… although my two dachshunds are excellent listeners, I’m still battling to get them to fully partake in the conversation.
• Silence, lack of conversation, and the fact that I’m not able to read as before makes me… stupid? but also bored and depressed.
• I am forgetting how to spell words (or just not fucking remembering them at all) and how to express myself in a socially acceptable manner.

Nobody really listens, nobody really cares, but guess what? The fact that you were stupid enough to click the link and are now reading this means that I am at least communicating. Even if it’s just like my conversations with my doggy girls, it’s at least communicating with another human. Who knows… maybe you are ‘normie’ who knows somebody with TBI and I managed to convince you that even though we are different, we can still be valuable if only you could understand us better.

Pffft… it doesn’t really matter. I’m just agitated, frustrated, and angry… but also grateful AF for the few souls in my life that do understand. A huge thanks to the couple of vodkas and edibles that keep me company every night. Oh, and to the poor soul who is reading this.