I know, the website says ‘comedy’ shed radio but this one is gonna be pretty heavy. This article is definitely more of a shed conversation. I decided that I’m moving back to LA. I never wanted to leave and I banished to utah at a time that was objectively THE worst possible thing for me. I’ve been stuck here for over twenty years. More than two decades I lost with the people who are the most important to me, people who cared about me and took care of me. And now I’ve lost some of those people having not told them the things I should have…not even getting to say good bye. I decided that I’m moving back by January. So, of course, the daring and well thought out plan I mapped is already falling apart. I’ve come to a junction were the only way I can afford to make it happen would would require letting go of the safety line that I’m counting on to be able to support myself, and isn’t entirely certain in and of itself.
I spent most of today submitting applications and trying to figure out how to make this happen. I haven’t been in a good place for a very long time. I often make jokes about being able to count my good days. It’s not a joke. Seven. That’s how many ‘good’ days I’ve experienced in my life. And fuck you, I’m not telling you what they are. You haven’t earned that. Inevitably, there were thousands of bad days to drag me down, grinding me into the concrete. Once in awhile I remember good things and then I break down weeping all night. It seems I spend each waking moment reliving my entire existence. Which is great, what with the lifetime of insomnia. You’re right, that is in fact not as much fun as it sounds. I needed a break earlier and started watching the new season of Shrinking. In fairness, I was watching the new episode of Silo because I have a not-so-secret crush on Rebecca Ferguson but I forgot that Apple TV+ releases episodes one at a time, and then is shifted to Shrinking and I’d forgotten how rough it is for me to watch this show. It’s hard watching shows like this and recognizing your own bullshit.
I’ll be honest, ya know…more than usual. The suicidal thoughts have been more intrusive lately. For context, thinking about killing myself has pretty well been my default setting since I was thirteen, at least. There have been times when the thoughts are more prominent, or constant. Usually, I manage. I acknowledge the thought, I feel what I need to feel, and then I move on. It’s hard sometimes to get past it but the last couple months have been harder than usual. I had other things I was going to write before I nodded off and now I can’t recall exactly what I was going to say here. The things I really wanted in life I didn’t get to have because I spent my teens and twenties working a series of dead-end, no-paying jobs that ate all my time and energy and left me no money to get by because that whole time I had to fix the shit my “mother” did to my name and credit. I was getting to be ‘ok’ when I was thirty-eight, and then everything turned to shit again when I tried to help someone who just took advantage of me. I have actively tried to be happy and it never worked. I’ve never fit in anywhere, certainly not this shithole state but my friends genuinely cared for me and I was isolated from them for over two decades.
Sorry, this is clearly why I don’t have anyone anymore to unload on like this. I missed out on a lot of things for a very long time. Really, more than anything I find myself hoping that All-Purpose-Plan-B can relocate me to a specific point in time and perhaps that go around I can actually learn to advocate for myself, get the hell out of the church shit, and in turn have more sex when I could have. Despite everything there are people I love. A lot of them dead but the ones who aren’t and they need to know that. And this way is more convenient than having actual conversations with them and avoids they calling the hotline. Thanks.
