How your room looks like your life

I watched my first complete episode of Doctor Who today. Frankly I'm only glad I now know what the fuck TARDIS is. I can't see what all the fuss is about. Surely this can't be it.

So what brought me to this moment in wee hour musing, my room. Well My life I should say. I am not a happy camper. I'm in that helpless funk I always seem to find myself in. Once again I'm wanting to throw in the towel and I don't know if that is the right decision. So what did I do? Well I sat down to multiple episodes of Mad Men and then One episode of Doctor Who. Escape much? That would be me.


I'd like to be a person of action. I'd like to say that I can fix this. I love to say that I will think my way out of this latest predicament, but I can't. You know what "Can't" is? Can't is the action word for Doubt.


Roll with this: I heard a story sometime this year, from a movie, a television show, a news article, a blog or a book I read about the Devil's greatest weapon. I'm not particularly religious but once in a while I hear something that makes sense.  If I remember correctly a man wanted a fail proof weapon against his enemy. Just when the man began searching for a means to destroy his nemesis another man approached him.


This new man seemed all knowing and powerful so the guy puts his problem to his ear. The worldly man displays an arsenal of things meant to wring the utmost satisfaction out of besting rival large or small. He offered them for sale. The man clapped with glee but was still not convince that what he wanted was there.


The worldly man slowly began to put away his weapons. The "buyer" noticed that there was one item he was never shown. So he asked about it. The strange worldly man told him, that this particular weapon was too powerful. It was so damaging that only a few people were strong enough to wield it. The price of it not much but the true sacrifice came after it's been used. Even the person using this weapon could fall prey to it.


The man thought about the pleasure he'd get from seeing his rival fall. If the price was low, he could make such a sacrifice. But what kind of sacrifice? What would he have to do? How long would he have to pay for something he'd already bought? Was this unknown sacrifice worth the trouble?


The Worldly man put the item in his jacket pocket. He patted it over his chest before continuing to pack up his things. With a smile he thanked the man for his time and apologized sincerely for not making a sale. The man watch the stranger walk away.


He never vanquished his enemy. After the visit with the strange man he wondered if he was ever strong enough to do it. He feared the consequences of taking him out. As his business fell into decline and he faced ruin he often thought about the man and what he carried in his breast pocket. He asked around the town if anyone else met the man. They never saw him, after a while people thought he was crazy. Soon after he lost everything he began to believe it himself. He never lived up to his full potential.


The strange man in this story was an agent of the Devil and of course I roll my eyes at giving the man a name or a title. But there is meaning there. Doubt cost nothing. It's a tiny seed that need very little attention and grows all by itself in the minds of everyone.


Doubt causes fear, hesitation, reluctance, a lack of faith in yourself, in others, in God or your higher power, jealousy, envy. Doubt can make a strong man falter. It can make, a happy woman angry. Doubt can take away security. Doubt can hold a person trapped in a job they don't want.


Doubt makes you, me, especially me, stop reaching for that next step. And I admit I am crippled by it. I feel  doubt all the time. I feel it now and instead of sleeping right now I'm awake doubting what will happen later today. Doubt has me wondering why finish the book, will I be able to attend school this fall, will I ever meet someone who finds me worthy, will I be homeless, doubt cripples me everyday.


I look around my messy room and wonder how this happened? Simple I stopped believing I could do anything. I stopped functioning as I was intended. I'm weak and incompetent. Doubt is the greatest weapon ever invented. When I see the papers strew across the floor I don't see that they are in an organized pile by subject. I see a mess that looks like it will take ages to sort through. Even if they are already sorted I feel overwhelmed at the thought of putting it away.

I wonder how to combat this thing called doubt. I wish I had he answer. I'm happy that I managed to come to grips with the fact that it's just a room. The mess isn't that bad and the papers are organized. The stuff on the floor isn't junk, it's dog toys for Chewy and picking an outfit is something I take a little pleassure in, even after I've tried on everything in my closet.




I will because it's five am, lay my head down and try to organize what I can take care of quickly. then I'll worry about the other stuff when it stops being other stuff. It's not healthy to have the kind of doubt I have. My world will not come crashing down around me. I'll just treat my life like my room and clean.

Scrutiny from the weirdest places

I can honestly say I do not like the person in this week's Flash Fiction. You know why? Because the bitch is a raging alcoholic. I can see the signs and even if it's a short story, I swear I see myself in it. I should be so lucky to have a man who would take care of me when I'm too drunk to care about myself.


I could just you know stop drinking again.


I could do the whole controlled drinking thing that is mentioned over and over in the AA book.  I wonder if I'm really doing that? Like the book says in one of the early chapters The seed is planted. This idea of controlled drinking.


You know what controlled drinking feels like to an alcoholic? Guilt, lots of it. This weird consciousness that lurks in the back of the alcoholic brain, making them wonder if they've had too much. One that hasn't hit their bottom will ponder this a lot. Since I haven't hit a bottom  with my drinking I wonder about it.


So there I was several times over the last two weeks feeling very much like the depressed angry person I was before I tried to off myself. I couldn't pin point the reason for it. Maybe it's my ever constant search for someone who isn't dependent on me to validate themselves. Maybe it's the fact that my room mate has been driving me to the point of wanting to leave everything behind. Maybe it's the fact that for the second month in a row I've haven't been paid on time thus facing a possible eviction.  Maybe it's the fact that my boss threatened to fire me for not talking to a client. I'm tired of stressing out.


The things that  seems constant in all this is the fact that there is two bottles of wine in the kitchen. Really big bottles. For a while I confidently looked at them and didn't want to suck them down cork and all. That's has not been the case these last two weeks. Yeah I think the cork is what's going to get it.

So when the photo prompt came out last week I wrote a story about addiction. I really did not mean to. The picture here, made me think of every time since I started back drinking that I had to JUST HAD TO have junk food before I went to sleep. I though I'd make a funny little story about a junk food run. Then after I posted it and began getting feed back I saw it for what it was. My character Tracey needed help.


I got great feed back from other writers on how well I wrote that shortie. I wanted to be proud I really did, but I couldn't because I saw me in her. I saw me in the other character as well. It bothered me. It bothered me a lot.


What bothers me more is that I've been ashamed to face this about myself and even if I don't hit bottom I'm heading there. Maybe I need to put the bottle down and  do some soul searching. I may not be hiding in the bottle, but I know that I'll never find the answers to my issues by dulling it with booze.


Am I stepping in the right direction? I have no idea. Is my writing telling me something? Yes, it's telling me to look at myself.