I’m addicted to TV.
Neurotic comfort zones. They’re so prohibitive of life. What bothers me the most about it is that I have lots of things I want to achieve – piano, singing, blog, bio, script, novel, plus all the other, lesser things – and they take time. Unless I give the time to them, they’ll remain dreams, and frustrating ones at that.
I have no desire to become an expert TV viewer! Why do I do it? The generic explanation is “loneliness” but that encompasses a lot of different specifics. The thing is, if something interrupts my viewing at night I go absolutely beserk inside with rage. If I don’t let it out, my experience is a nightmare, I want to kill somebody.
That rage, it’s actually masking fear and pain. TV just anaesthetizes it all. And here’s the scary thing. I don’t want to replace the TV with real people. I want to hide. Maybe it isn’t about being lonely, maybe it’s about a time when I wasn’t left alone. Suddenly I feel light-headed. I have a physical sensation happening, that used to haunt when I was a child.
It would happen as I was falling asleep. A white fence would rise up in my head, and something would come over it, towards me. I couldn’t see it, couldn’t identify it. Then my tongue would get bigger and bigger in my mouth, and the world would start spinning. If I opened my eyes, it would eventually subside, but as soon as I tried to go to sleep again, it would start again.
I can understand the implications, but I have no memory to explain that experience. Many times I’ve thought it’s impossible for something to have happened. But when these emotions rise like they are now, a part of me knows. But what do I know? I can’t say. Not yet, anyway. I remember being molested but this feels different.
I breathe in and out, and don’t let myself panic. If there’s something to remember, I’ll remember when I can deal with it. If it’s just jumbled memories of the sexual things that were done to me which I can remember, mixed up with the twisted, distorted psyches of some of the men in my child’s world, it will clear itself up.
The past is over. I look out my window and see a sunny day, waves breaking at the shore. Whatever happened, I made it out intact. I’m here. It didn’t destroy me then. It can’t destroy me now.
No wonder I’m addicted to TV. I think about all my various addictions in my life. As I’ve learned more about what drove me to them, they’ve become increasingly benign. Slowly you peel away the outer layers of your fear, anger, sorrow. Slowly you get to the core.
I can do this. Gently, carefully. It doesn’t have to be traumatic.