Mad, Bad, Sad

On my way work yesterday, the feeling crawled bit by bit into me. Maybe i'm not OK. Sure, it was my first day out of rehab and the feeling of freedom is still something that i'm grappling with but it was for sure, i wasn't feeling 'normal'. Again. It got worse once i got into work, subsided halfway through the shift and i was having a good laugh with my good friend Kate. But on the way home, it came back again. In waves, i get that ' x ' feeling that i can't quite describe. It hangs everywhere like an omnipresent cloud. It feels like madness, badness and sadness. Sad might be a little too dramatic though. It's more a dull, grey boredom. I think i'm hankering after an excitement that only ever gets granted to us in moments and seconds and yet i'm chasing after that moment and wanting it to be my entire life.

I don't know whether it's this city or just my head, but everyday to me is like a maze that i know how to get out of. I use the same route everyday and i'm sick of it. Routine is something that happens everywhere though. It is not bound to one place but to the person who is living. It is their habits, their preferences and their comforts. No matter where we go, we always have to have our comforts, right? Melbourne is a great city. After phases of loving and hating i know that beyond me, it is a city that has pockets of offers that peeks out every now and then just for you. But i need something that is beyond this city and the people which i know to live here. Everyone is so predictable, everything is so predictable and there's a void inside that i can't fill. It is appeased for an hour or two with a bottle of champagne or designer clothes. But then then the void re-emerges and it's just mad, bad and sad. Being in rehab gave me a new perspective on life. I met people who had it so much worse than i did. Four children, coming off methadone, anger management issues. When i looked at myself, i felt like a whiney windbag who had made mountains out of molehills. I'm out of that place now. A place that i really got so used to and loved. And in the real world away from the context of rehabilitation and the different stories and people that fill it, i still feel like i have some sort of problem. A problem that i can only feel and cannot express into a visible or verbal means.

I'm not depressed anymore like i was for basically my entire life. This is worse because it's vaguer and more oppressive. If you can't name your problem or delineate it in language, then no one can reach their arms down to help you. I didn't think that there would be a feeling that is worse than being sad, but this is worse. Feeling something so profoundly yours that you can't express it in language. It's isolating and alienating.