What I mean by that is, I am trying to verbalize my thoughts in some places, places I tend not to unless I'm a little bit desperate, since I always know there's probably nothing they can say except "hugs" and "with love". What can they actually do, after all? Most of them live half-way across the world, or at least the nation. Most of them also have their own host of problems, so it's not like they'd be able to do anything, except give their own words.
Even among those that are close to me (there's about two dozen between my mafia site and ComicFury, and by close, I mean 'within the state of Washington, or if veering into other states, basically Portland, panhandle of Idaho, or Vancouver BC levels of close'), the logistics of actually doing anything haven't worked out. There's been a gaming group that has been, very vaguely, close. Ish.
The only night they consistently meet from my understanding, though, is Friday nights, and on the few rare occasions where it seems like I may have the chance to attend, something always comes up that screws me over. The point I'm more or less making here, though, is that I don't like to post my problems to them, because generally they're nice people who want to help, when...there's not really much they can do to help, in part thanks to the medium, in part thanks to their own situations in relationship to mine, and in part because to some degree, I think I actively self-sabotage my own efforts on some level, as if I don't want to be saved, even though I do.
What I mean by that is...every day I actively dream of someone coming to help me. Every day, I actively hope that there will mystically, out of the blue, suddenly be someone there to instantly support me. That I can disclose my secrets to, that will help me, that will suddenly be there for me, in my time of need. Every day, some variant on that plays out.
...Yet also, whenever help is offered to me, there's always some sort of distance there. Maybe based on fear. I don't know why. But I can always feel strong resistance, caused by something. Maybe fear, that's my best guess, but fear of what, other than maybe change itself, I wouldn't have a clue. Something stops me from thinking I should ever try to get that.
Of course, realistically, the most likely answer is that the only one to save me will be myself. I can't magically wish for something to happen, and then it will. There's a good reason most of my earlier novels featured the me-at-the-time as the protagonist, being mystically powered up by some event. Because I felt those feelings even back then, that I was different, that I wasn't normal, and back then, my hopes manifested as always dreaming that maybe it was because I had some sort of latent superpower, childish and impossible as that sounds.
I feel like that's a good subject of discussion, but at this time, can't verbalize my thoughts any further, so for the time being, gonna table it and get back to my original point. In spite of all of the above, of knowing how the only thing my friends can offer me is words...I still have been posting my blog posts almost verbatim and hoping for something they say making a difference to me.
And after one such person posted, this was my reply. Objectively, I know there are some things I need to do to reach my goals. If I want to transition, I need to be fully independent: live away from home, be able to function on a daily basis without direct help, etc. To get that, I need to have a much better job than 'part-time lifeguard'.
I literally just posted on this blog (as in, it was posted today, and written just two days ago!) that I had a job lead. I think an internship, but doesn't matter. Job's a job, in the field, for experience, and maybe long-term employment. It's something that, at any time, I could begin replying to. They gave me that power, by saying they wanted me to contact them at the earliest convenient time, which has no definitive timeframe.
But I further went on to say...For things like writing, I know that if I want to get my book published, I actually have to write it. If I want to get my webcomic up and running, I actually have to draw it. The problem is...in a sense, that I'm actively sabotaging my own efforts, by actively seeking to not do these things. And not in the inertia kind of way, where I'm not doing them but I want to be doing them. Where I have no momentum, but need to build it up. The momentum's there, because I have started. It's just that I'm actively diverting myself from that path, that I want to walk, and instead, I'm finding myself intentionally walking on a path where there's...nothing.
So in a sense...it's like I can see the road to freedom, and instead of choosing to walk it, I deliberately took a turn onto a road I know is a dead-end. I feel like I'm running away from everything. As in, if I was a little more manic in my bipolar disorder, could maybe, quite literally, just put on my shoes, take whatever belongings are in my immediate surroundings, and just walk out the door and wander away, with no idea where I'm going, just...somewhere else.
Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. It's that kind of feeling I'm experiencing. Where I just want to...not have anything I have right now. Good OR bad.