So it's been a while. And as I look through my blogs pre 7 months ago now, for the last couple of years really, I am reminded by the sense of desolation permeating my life on a day to day basis. Due to no one's fault but my own really.
So the last 6 months has been a trying time, a crying time, and praying to just get by time. Has my life improved… It's certainly changed. I think what has most improved is not my outside circumstances, because when I think about those… yeah they still kinda fucked, deservedly so really. But for the last 7 months I have really worked on finding some kind of internal (I want to say peace, but thats so fucking new age-y it makes me vom vom in my mouth)… satisfaction, equilibrium, serenity. SERENITY now SANITY later. Yeah. That would be it, serenity. Sanity definitely later.
I have gone back to a life which abstains from intoxicating my body with depressants on a… well eventually what becomes a daily basis. I found that xanax washes down incredibly well on a stomach full of alcohol. Provided by my "special" chemist, hidden away in the dodgy water cooler. Benzos are no more legal here without a prescription than any other country, but easy enough to get. Bai Moto (go moto), "Ow Xanax, Hah sip" (want xanax 50) - "1000 baht? Sure no problem". I started to feel dirty and kind of ashamed when I seemed to be turning up on my friendly pharmacists doorstep on a much more frequent basis than what I thought might be deemed socially acceptable. While he knowingly smirked, counting out my increasing dosage. It's like an extended pharmaceutical holiday, except not really that fun, or restful.
And booze. Asia is drinking culture, a paradigm steeped in sexpat behavior. The heat and the tropics and the seksi-ness, promotes full bacchanalian behavior which is accepted and rewarded. And the recovery is starting the next day and repeating the same thing, over and over again.
Funnily enough, when taking depressants, I seem to get really fucking depressed. Then my brain does weird shit, while I isolate in the 'security' of my own bedroom, slowly becoming agoraphobic, misanthropic and filled with a sense of never ending dread… "what have I done with my life, what am I going to do with my life, what the fuck happens to me now I have hit 30+, will I ever make anything of myself, why am I such a piece of shit… yadda yadda yadda"… It's an inevitable fucking house of horrors up there in the dark recess that is known as my brain.
My level of self esteem lowers to about -100 to the power of ten, and I end up in a fetal ball of self loathing which is a never ending cycle of self torture. Yeah, it's boring, and takes up a lot of energy. Actually, all of my energy really.
*whistles*… yep, that silence was deafening.
So yeah, my husband left me. And really props to him for putting up with my shit for so long. There was a lot of shit to deal with. Aaaand Yep, it's fucking painful. Still really fucking painful actually. And I'm still in asia with my 3 dogs, that I can't afford to take anywhere, and wouldn't dream of giving away. I still live in a really big, relatively empty house, which I cant move out of because of the amount of shit that's in it, and the amount of dogs I have.
My maid watched me cry for 3 months, as I tried to pull myself together, and probably totally freaked out at my displays of unadulterated emotion. Poor thing. I don't think I would have got by without her actually. She was a rock of strength weathering through my proverbial storm. When I wouldn't go downstairs or eat for days on end, she would bring up some weird concoction of food and make me eat. She looked after the dogs while I could barely feed myself, or shower, or give a shit about anything. Yeah… good times.
Hahaha. I would like to say everything is fixed and I'm all better. But it's a slow process. The inner emotional turmoil started rectifying itself by me getting a job on an indie pilot here – in production... finally (I wish I had never listened to the douche who told me I wouldn't work here in production because I didn't know enough Thai - asshat) . Funnily enough the director was good friends with one of my surrogate family members in Australia. So the world grew more interconnected, and I somehow felt cared for by proxy I guess. It was good to push myself doing a project which lacked so much organization when I got there. To make it work in a such a short amount of time is like a challenge unto myself. It got done. Note to self, nothing is ever perfect.
The day that project wrapped, I started another job on a feature film literally the next day. I have been navigating through the political minefield, and self motivated agendas of film making in Thailand ever since. It's been an interesting ride. Fascinating to see how people work here. And I don't mean how they perform their duties in the workplace. I mean their motivations. How they go about manipulating shit in their favor. Sometimes I am astounded, other times disgusted, on a shitty day disheartened.
Being on production is kind of like being in high school again. There are cliques, and niches, social stratification and a clear demarcation drawn between the upper and lower people of worth, with a price tag attached, and sometimes a colour of skin chucked into the bargain. Often I think, "are we not all human, do we not all bleed, do we not all deserve the same basic rights". But no.
We have unicorns, horses, cattle and sheep. That's the way it is, and will always be.
At high school I was never in with the "hiparistos"… I couldn't bear their self indulgence, vanity, lack of self awareness, and general exclusion policies. I hung out first with roolly roolly uncool people, then nerds, then people about 2-4 years older than me. Film sets aren't much different. To find the truly genuine people one can connect with on some deeper level than subjects of the weather, what iphone you own, or where you're going to go on your day off to appropriate "coolness", is hard. I realize, I will never be one of the "cool kids". And I'm ok with that - I think.
I'm a lot, dare I say happier, working again. Happier is probably not the right word. Functional, appeased, possibly? It totally ties into a level of self worth which is unobtainable any other way. The other thing is, I am good at what I do, even though, thats a fucking hard thing to say. I apply myself and learn quickly, and adapt. I like solving puzzles and working in organized chaos. Chaos is something I am totally familiar with.
This job ends soon, and I will have to start looking for work again, and I know I will probably be a bit down and miss it after I stop working 6 days a week, "12 hour" days (which are really 15-17 hours). But I think I have done a job I can at least be happy with.
As for my husband. I still love him. And I don't really know what the future holds. I try not to dwell on it either, as it's something I have no control over. The dogs however love me… and the maid (the maid probably more). They sleep with me though, because I have the aircon.
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