Life in Hell

What I know about the situation is that I placed myself in it, for starters, so I have no business complaining about it or being so butt-hurt. I also know how to solve the problem of wallowing in self-pity and resentment. I know how to mend the pain of being sore at myself. But apparantly, at the moment anyway, I am unwilling or unable to pick up those tools and put them to work. I imagine that tells me that I'm getting some sort of reward out of this being miserable which is a perverse idea so it shouldn't surprise me.

I went to court yesterday to be sentenced for a probation violation. If I had not violated I would have been off probation in like 10 more months.

Now I have 5 more years.

200 hours of community service to do within a year and 5 more years of being on probation in a state that doesn't allow me to leave except by special permission and only to go be with immediate family. Which means I'm here, in this state I can't stand, where I don't believe I'll ever have a boyfriend, where there are no opportunities unless you really like hunting or fishing or are a Mormon or a Republican, for five more M*$#er F@&$(*g years.

I seriously, at least at the moment, think I'd rather die. And unfortunately, because I placed myself in this position, it validates every rotten thing I already think about myself and every reason I think carrying on is not worth it. I know that is my disease talking. I know this too shall pass. But it won't pass till I'm fourty f-ing eight years old. Till then I'm trapped in a mean, nasty republican cultural wasteland trying to protect myself from my past and from my drunken mother.

What is stupider is that if they hadn't made it a requirement I probably wouldn't feel this way. I'd probably end up here for five more years anyway. And this feeling is so overwhelming, particularly on my 11th consecutive Valentine's Day without a companion or any prospect of one, that I'm afraid if I said what was really going on in my head I'd be locked up for my own good. In case anyone needs me I'll be hiding in my room, crying, praying for the willingness to do the work.

I'm Expecting

I've been thinking a great deal about how expectations play havoc with my life. My need to manage them sometimes consumes my time and efforts that I could otherwise spend in pursuit of something that would make life more joyous. This management of expectations is born out of being disappointed, hurt or defeated—something which everyone experiences at some point in their day to day existence. Get hurt real bad once and it seems understandable that one would spend the rest of their lives avoiding that hurt again. But at what costs? expecting happy outcomes is the cost of entry for happy outcomes. They just don't up and surprise us. We have to let them happen. And we have to do that by expecting them to happen.

But no. I spend way too much time thinking about all the things I don't want to happen. Ultimately that fear rules my existence and any wondering of what could be becomes a wonder of something I surly don't want to be. Even if something good comes along I might be likely to miss it simply because I didn't expect it.

So I am trying to toss off my fears and up the ante on my expectations. Perhaps I will be disappointed. Most likely I will be. But even so, the time I spend happily expecting the best far outweighs the benefit of waiting expectantly to be hurt or disappointed. Better to be blindsided by pain then waste my life away dejected because I fear the worst. It's not like painful things are going to be less painful because you see them coming. The pain is the same and the time it takes to get over it takes just as long... unless I decide to not get over and just keep look out for the next painful thing to arrive.

I think what I am trying to say here it that it is far better to be happy some of the time than to be unhappy all of the time. That is what my bout with addiction has taught me. I am just going to practice, practice practice believing the best will happen. If it doesn't, I will be no worse for the wear. If it does, I'll dance a little jig and expect something else to have a happy outcome. In fact, I should take some dancing lessons so when I get happy I am prepared.