I wondered what I would be reading on this blog, then I remembered I would have first to write it. Interesting attribute of this medium: work, then consume.
When there is a possibility that one's life is becoming the anteroom to a chamber of horrors, one must take pause.
I have been conducting a set of multiple deceits in order to prepare for this potential removal to Gotham. For one, since I discovered that some of my medicines may be dangerous in combination with a particular substance, I've been shall we say, unilaterally deemphasizing them. Also, I am engaging with a certain friend with whom I have had certain experiences in Brooklyn to search for an apartment/room for me without revealing that fact to my mother.
How can this bode well for my future?
Practically and realistically, there's a lot of hope that I need to hew close to in order to succeed over the next weeks and months: hope that there is a way around the dangers that are so obvious.
Truth be told, I have not before knowingly had to make decisions with such permanent and extensive possible "ram"ifications. I have never before had to know that it is I in the present who is casting the mold of the rest of my time on this planet. To me, pace commonsense thinking it is not about drugs versus everything else, it is remaining emotionally responsible and cognizant of the worth of my own existence in every circumstance that will lead to a satisfactory result. I must put my life first, no matter what else is happening, because the alternatives will always be there no matter what choices I make.
Moving on to what my feelings are right now, I believe that I am hemming and hawing primarily from the guilt involved with leaving my mother.
(There is such a thing as destructive cerebral fantasies.)
Let's see, how can I work through this?
In no particular order, I "intend" to write some excellent resumes and distribute them to as many departments of the U.S. Gov. present in New York as possible.
I "intend," should I locate appropriate shelter, to spend the majority of the money I have saved on furniture and other necessities, etc. rather than on something else. No temptations, self-discipline, etc.
I "intend" to maintain a reasonable separation between some aspects of my life and others so that they don't interfere with each other or create a negative spiral downward. I can't willy-nilly trust everybody to be tolerant of everything I do. However, I refuse to not recognize that life is full of possibilities of all kinds, without fear or favor.
I "intend" to have a back-up plan to have enough reserves to leave should it become clear to me that I cannot handle myself well in the great City of New York.
I "intend" to recognize that "bad" behavior is possible and perhaps even probable wherever I am.
I must immediately seek competent therapy so that I do not forget that there is much grief that I must recognize as the root of much of my behavior. I started acting the way I have shortly after my father died.
It's not that easy to be alive when there's such crazy, chaotic and misdirected threads of pain still in my dreams.
I need to let go.
Okay. I'm angry. I was loving. I was a woman who gave. Now I have to be a friend to the ashes of a woman.
Now I need to be very me, a goddess of dreams that no one can be loving toward, except my own home, the human being, Julia Murray.
Please be content with who you are.
Thank you for reading.
Yours, tears of Estoril, the way she needs to be.