Two Steps Back

You know what’s the hardest part when you come back from vacation? You would think that vacation relaxed you and increased your appetite for “going back to work”. But then you realise that the relaxation that it brought to you, made you even more “incompatible with your work”.

When you see that the problems are still there and there is still no way to fix them. And you start to dream of a longer vacation. Part of you is already consumed into finding ways to not come back at all. It’s the burned out part.

When you know that you come back to the same place and the same job and you still don’t have a support group, as in, except from some superficial connections that can’t really offer you 1 to 1 time, a true feeling of belonging.

When you get older and your shape starts to show the hardships that you endured, you can see how your spine is not even straight anymore. And you wonder, how much will it still support.

Until you come back to the same addictions. 7 days in December, 7 days in January, in February in the 8th day a serios distress code was received.

And yet. What should I even do? Are we really going back to the same madness? Or we find a more constructive and risk free way to release that pent-up energy?

How do you release the energy of a volcano, in a gradual safe way, without it having to do it through eruptions and explosions?

How the fuck do I stop feeling for you? Literally. It’s not enough that it occupies my mind and I feel like some pull that is consuming my whole being, people still blame me for it. “You’re obsessed, it’s not healthy, do therapy”. Ok, but why is it still my fault?!

How the fuck do I make me to stop feeling attracted?

I am exhausted of defending myself. It takes an excruciating mental and emotional effort to be on top of everything and provide enough feedback in due time, to keep your seas from swallowing me, before it completely floods my subconscious.

I hate it. I hate the fact that I don’t have a choice in the matter. If I write, I risk being punished for it. If I don’t, it finds me when I’m sleeping.

Fucking alarm clock. It ruined such a perfect experience. Such a perfect merge..

Did I mention I got in the wrong car this morning?

That guy that was our tour driver for today wrote me yesterday evening on WhatsApp. I don’t usually check WhatsApp.. I was actually oblivious that it still kept me signed on with my CZ number, even if now I have a Qatar number.

Meanwhile I was stressing how do I let them know because I was not sure where exactly I should be for them to pick me up in the morning.

At exactly 7:30 while I was at breakfast my phone rang. It was coming from WhatsApp but I didn’t realise it. I don’t get many calls. I ignored it. Few minutes later he called again. I literally couldn’t make the connection, who is calling me and why. I did answer the 3rd time, while I was already on my way toward the pick-up point. Which was actually a pick-up street. Very broad.

And then I finally open WhatsApp “hey, I am your tour driver for tomorrow”. Right. So I started texting that I am on my way and he asked me to share my location with him so he could pick me, as he is already in the car on the way.

I sat on a bench in a bus station and waiting. And I see a light blue sedan car pulling over, it had a number something like 11222 or something that grabbed my attention. So I got inside. I thought he is the tour driver.

Funny (and actually maybe the thing that saved me) is that the correct driver was just behind and he saw me getting into a different car and he blocked the exit for that car. Everything happened very fast, like 5, max 10 seconds. When I realised something is very sus, I immediately got down from that blue car and that’s when I saw the corect car with a white Land Cruiser.

I should be protected from myself and from my dreams more often. Did I say dreams? Maybe nightmares.

I connected too much with that driver. And I feel so bad that I didn’t leave him any tips because I forgot to have any QAR cash with me. I only had a paper of 100 USD for very emergency cases. I didn’t want to leave him that much, though.

I asked in a joke if he has a QR code. He only shared with us a link to provide feedback.

He went above and beyond first to make sure he established a contact with me, then he offered to pick me earlier, even before reaching the established meeting point. Maybe that’s what confused me. I am struggling. I’m riding a very thin line between being intellectual, emotional, easygoing or deeply focused.

I have both autistic and ADHD traits. Chatting with him before the pick up point ruined the balance of safety for me. Sharing my location with a complete stranger was like a firewall breach. My brain was confused.

I was confused. It’s so scary to let yourself trust other people, especially for services that you already paid.

And what’s actually even scarier, truly terrifying, is that I don’t feel anything anymore. I don’t feel scared anymore. I don’t feel anxiety anymore. I don’t feel panic anymore. I just go with the flow.

Oh, you are not the car I am supposed to be in? Good, let me get down. And I got down.

Why in other cases it’s so hard to get down when we don’t feel comfortable anymore?

Why, after we spent more time with a person, even if being in their presence still makes us feel uncomfortable, but we can’t get down?!

How are we so fucked up that we started confusing being controled with being safe?

I loved this vacation. I took many pictures with my DSLR camera.

Because you reminded me. Of myself. Of being me again and how I was enjoying taking pictures. Hiding myself being the camera.

I didn’t take pictures of people, I took pictures of building, landscapes, flowers, birds, cats and me.

My moments. My momentum. My flow.

Too bad you are not in it also. In them.

No, please no. I spent half day yesterday looking everywhere for 2188. Everywhere. I mean, numbers are absolutely everywhere, especially here where I can’t understand anything that is text, that is not in English.

I’m not going to take every single picture from all the pictures that I took yesterday and today, zooming in, searching for you in the background. That’s complete fucking insanity. And yet I feel that I can’t stop it.

When the idea comes, I can’t discard it. It’s the only thing I have left. The hope of maybe, hopefully, one day, I will see you again. Not by making love with you in my dreams, but just existing, there being you, in the background of my reality.

In the background of my manifestation. In my audience.

You know, that’s actually when I am starting to feel again. The adrenaline, the vibration, the humming, the creative life force. And yet the virus keeps telling me that I am stupid.

I am stupid.

I am stupid.

Why the fuck am I stupid? For not hiding myself under the bed when my mom was ripping me the pages with my homework and asking me to do them again?

She would have killed me. She probably already has. In a different reality, in a different dimension. She had no boundaries. She had no way to stop herself.

She was trapped in her childhood trauma.

She is so intrusive and violating that she shows up in my dreams whenever I have some passionate erotic encounters. And I feel ashamed. And I stop the dream. And I hate her so much for that, with every fucking fiber of my being.

She was not in the one from this morning. But the alarm rang. I can still feel the energy like a knot stuck in my chest. Something that should be expressed, released, acknowledged, witnessed but it can’t. Because apparently, I am too cringe about it.

I am too fat and I have no more resources to release that. Because if I do, I have to protect myself from even more suffering.

Good nite. Whatever.