God, I woke up with my guts in a knot from anxiety, thinking about venturing out to famous UCLA campus here in Westwood, to meet Chelsea, the girl who is conducting bipolar research. Means cash to me. Something of which I am in short supply of. I met Chelsea back in July I think, when I went there with my friend Denise. Denise is in the program, so I asked D to go with me on the bus to show me how to get there. My car wasn't running, and I had to start riding busses.
I only have a short time to be in the program, cuz they only take women up to age 50. Me being compulsively honest as ridiculous as that is, had to blurt out my life story as usual. I have this need to let everyone I meet know what a loser I am, so I of course told Chelsea I was addicted to pot at the time, and was self medicating. She's a very nice person, but told me that I had to wait 6 months to be in the program again and be clean from drugs in all that time. Once again my need to blurt out my foibles causes me to shoot myself in the foot.
So here I am, months later, still clean from pot. If I hadn't told her that, I could have stayed in the program and been getting money to be interviewed. Now I am sick from anxiety, and thinking of excuses not to go, cuz UCLA campus intimidates me. I am a full time recluse, and even though I live on a busy LA street with thousands of cars going by all the time, I am removed from it, living on the 4th floor. I can look out and see life go by~watching it happen to other humans. My Ivory Tower, I call it. My cats my only companions. My cats drive me crazy sometimes, but I think I would commit suicide if I didn't have them for some kind of affection. I get asked out on dates everyday on Tagged.com, but the thought of going to meet a stranger from the net puts me off, so I turn them all down. I feel I have nothing to offer a real man anyway....And of course, the holiday season always does my head in.
My therapist Jane says I CAN get out, and that I have to force myself to do it. I made myself go to church on Sunday, and everyone there is so nice, asking me where I had been, since I'd been gone from there for months as well. There is a big stained glass window over the choir and pulpit, of Jesus with his arms out stretched, and I always say hi to him and stare at him while the pastor gives his sermon. I feel so far removed from humanity that I feel like an alien from another planet when I am amongst other humans. I stare at Jesus and wonder how a sweet, self deluded carpenter from a tiny town thought himself to be God himself, and how he believed it so much, he was willing to die for it. Then I think that maybe Jesus was bi polar or schizophrenic, cuz I think I am bipolar angel from the City of Angels myself sometimes...Don't want to sound blasphemous, and I love Jesus, but that's the kind of weird thoughts that go around in my head always.
I still get messages from God sometimes, but I haven't so much since I quit smoking pot. My problem is I am so addicted to it, I can smoke non stop all day, trying to keep that level of high going. Last time I got a message was not too long ago. I was watching a show named Supernatural, and there was a scene where Sam and Dean, the brothers who fight demons, meet who they though was a demon, but who was really the angel Gabriel. Right as they find this out, this song on my playlist on my computer starts playing this song by Lamb called Gabriel...."I can fly, but I want his wings~~My angel Gabriel..." This happens to me enough that it gets my attention. My playlist is automatic and changes tunes everytime a song comes on. Jung would call it Synchonicity, and maybe to some degree it is, the mass unconcious human mind works, but these are machines that I get messages from. I try to write this stuff down to authenticate it when it happens on the radio, to prove that there was a song at such and such a day from the station. But the song Gabriel playing was my own little message I suppose, since I can't prove it played just at that moment. I have had a couple of other things happen back in the summer, but will write that down laste. Now, I have gear myself up to get to UCLA. Stuff like getting through this god awful LA traffic and finding a parking space makes me fret and get sick, just anticipating...
And I want to say hi to BRB, the guy who left me a comment on my last posting. You said you never got any encouragement growing up, and ur self esteem stinks too.. Yeah I know how that is. Sometimes I despise my mama for that. Never a hug or a kiss, or her telling me she loved me. Throwing out my art work that I put up on my walls. I try to forgive her, cuz she is self absorbed person and said she was raised without love herself, but at age 50, I am still suffering from it. I ask my therapist if I am ever going to get over it~I mean my mom is 81 yrs old, for pete's sake....Am I going to resent her to her grave?