The Bloody Doors Off

The zipper on my winter coat is fucked. The teeth won’t grab. Discovered this first thing this morning as I was headed out to meet the family for breakfast. Five minutes I spent (futilely) trying to get it done up. Pissed me off, and set the tone for the day.

There’s a phrase my friend Karen taught me, H.A.L.T.:

Hungry
Angry
Lonely
Tired

I’m not going to post it all here, but it is linked. So if you want to get the full story, I highly recommend reading it.

Basically put, I hit 2-3 at any given time. Today I’m Angry: at my work situation, that I’ve had to give up so much in the past year. I’m Tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. And Lonely. Fuck yeah. Definitely that. But knowing that I’m not emotionally in the best place to invest in a relationship makes things that much more difficult. I want to put myself out there, but can’t guarantee I won’t experience tumultuous mood swings (like I have today), or make poor decisions because of what I go through in a given moment.

As for hungry, you don’t have to be hungry for food (though I’ve been fighting off late night cravings despite eating dinner at a reasonable time). I’m hungry for simple things. Like a smile, a touch. I can’t remember the last time I was cuddled on the couch while watching a movie (cats don’t count, because they cuddle for themselves, not you).

It’s recommended you don’t make any decisions if you experience H.A.L.T. symptoms. And there’s the rub, because it seems like I’m always under the influence of one of these.

After Kevin dropped me off back at the apartment, I plugged in my cell phone to charge and went grocery shopping. In the middle of it all, amongst the crowd, I just wanted to walk away. Just toss everything on the floor, unleash a primal scream and run. And keep on running. I sometimes imagined myself heading to the Bay Street bus terminal and buying a ticket to any destination but here. I’d pack a bag with the essentials, and choose a place at random. Start over. And with my phone at home, no one would be able to reach me.

This wouldn’t be so spur-of-the-moment as I’d like. I’d have to arrange for several months of my prescriptions at first (or I’d have to secure my medical records), and find someone to take possession of the kitties. (Mollie, I’m looking at you.) A place where no one knew me, where I could start over. But I ultimately realize I’d run into the same roadblocks, and fall into the same pitfalls. And I’d miss my cats.

Yes, I’d also miss my family and friends.

I wouldn’t miss the person I left behind.

But this is H.A.L.T. thinking. And I need to put a stop to it.