Dear:

So let’s talk about it shall we.

I was at SeaTac waiting for my departure. My companion and I sat in the food court. Months prior he graciously offered to fly me out to the north west estuary event. He and others helped me by offering an affordable lodging for the weekend.  The weekend itself was tremendous. Very heartfelt, emotionally taxing, which fit me well. I often feel deeply connected to others through the shared experience of more stark realities. I suppose some would call this trauma bonding, whatever the fuck that means. There was so much life shared in those 48 or so hours. I had moments of feeling known and seen. Conversely I had,and have always had an identity of artificiality. I do my best to be if not transparent, translucent at minimum. But I always have had a sense of being artificial. In constant fear. Desperate to be made real, yet unavailable at a certain point.

For the life of me I can’t remember what set me off. All I recall is being deeply annoyed by two things, the first to my deep chagrin I can’t remember the second and even more serious, the fact that I was annoyed at all. The fact I could be so ungrateful to this man, who is a friend, who sacrificed his frequent flyer miles and other resources so that I specifically, could attend an event we both cared for and were joyful to attend. This irrational assholery onset a mundane longing, to cease to exist. Not exactly, but the thought of it. The knowledge of my petty existence ran through my mind like the fucking Macarena. More like a fragment of the song skipping looped on repeat, while some dark character from an IFS report looks on with a hammer trying to determine the best way to dismantle this piece of shit juke box.

That’s me, typical me sitting across from a loving friend. All whilst some other more sensible member of my conciseness congress stands off to the side, doing his best to politely murmur to me (come on dude don’t do this, clean this up, don’t mess this up for us).

I have since apologized to my friend for being so abruptly rude and ungrateful. Though if I were him I wouldn’t remain to friendly to me. Though he has. He’s one of many friends and acquaintances I know who are equally as gracious towards me. Why? I’ve no clue. If you’re reading this thank you. If you know me then you know how difficult a friend how unworthy of the title I truly am. Why do you remain? Why for that matter has my wife remained so. Why do I have this. What is it. I’m honestly asking. And yesterday I had a conversation with Anne where we’ve decided to look into professional help. I’ve conceded that medication is a must. I’ve bitterly fought pharmaceutical treatment my whole adult life. I’m terrified of what I might lose if I fold. Who might I become. Why can’t I just act normal. Why can’t I just expressly live the grace and gratitude that’s in my heart. My emotional outbursts, my frustrations are not my genuine outlook. This is the purpose for my feeling of artificial identify. I know that I’m a grateful loving and gentle man at heart. But why not at this other level. I don’t even know what that level is. But it’s not exactly me. I have to put all this out there because I need you to know that I know. I sympathize with you deeply. And I’m tired of apologizing. I’m tired in general. I will not make any excuses. I’m deeply flawed and sick. I know not what to do from here other than wait and see.   But if you’re reading this. Thank you.