Today has been a sleepy day. I spent a lot of the hours of the day in deep, restless, sweaty slumber.

And I wish I could say that it was all involuntary, but I don’t think it was. I really did not feel like facing reality at all today and so I hid in sleep. The usual thing : I got up for meals and slept in between.

I don’t know what changed recently, but I have been more depressed lately. I feel a deep cold inside that I long to release into the world somehow. A long, slow sadness like a long slow note on a cello that changes in timbre and tone but never in frequency.

I guess the glacier of my soul has calved off another iceberg of loneliness, grief, and melancholy for me to deal with and it is up to me to melt it down to nothing.

The urge to push it out into the world instead of just waiting for it to melt on its own is strong in me. Right now, I would do just about anything to rid myself of this burden of ice. I would even, given the chance, grab someone and hold them close just to transfer my coldness to them and let them deal with it, like some kind of vampire of warmth.

Luckily, I don’t have anyone like that around. So I will have to birth my berg alone.

At times like this, I feel poisoned. Befouled. Like somehow I consumed something wretched and now I have to suffer the long painful process of it working its way through me before I can eliminate it.

As metaphors for unprocessed emotions go, it has its appeal.

Of course, I know that the poison came from within, not without. I am autotoxic, like a patient with kidney problems, and what I really need is a long and very thorough course of dialysis to cleanse my filthy soul so the waters of my spirit run clean.

It’s always water.

I have no idea how big my glacier really is or when I will finally be free of it. I can tell that it is much smaller than it used to be and that the smaller it gets, the healthier I am, but that is a relative measure, not absolute. For all I know, I will be going through this process for the rest of my foreshortened fat guy life.

It’s hard not to feel fucked over by fate sometimes. When I look back over my life (which I should not do, but I can’t help it), it makes me mad that I had a disease, depression with social anxiety, that actively prevented my seeking treatment for it. And even when I did seek treatment, the disease still made it very hard for me to be a successful advocate for myself. I just took whatever was given and was glad for whatever I got. Story of my life.

I should have been out in the world living my life instead of hiding from it. But I was so, so sick, and there was nobody in my life who could help me and I sure couldn’t help myself.

Not that I am blaming those who were around me for not being able to help me. I am sure they all wanted to help me, but the nature of my being makes that extremely difficult if not impossible. Trying to help me is like trying to roll a beached whale back into the water by yourself.

It’s always water.

So in my better moments, I can even sort of forgive the teachers and administrators who failed to protect me from bullying when I was in elementary school. I was a lot more than a handful. I was unique. Most of them never even stood a chance at understanding me, let alone handling me. Even for those who could get some kind of grip on me, I did not exactly make their lives easy, being the bundle of shyness, stubbornness, willfulness, utter lack of respect for authority, and smartass attitude.

And powering all of it was a mind unlike any they had ever known. Not just smart but brilliant and unique. I daresay they had never seen the likes of me before that and haven’t since, either.

I was born into a world that could not handle me.

If I had to do it all over again, I would be a lot more demanding and self-assured. And like I keep saying, I would have copped a simply massive attitude. I went the humble egalitarian route before and it sucked. Next time through, I would try the whole egotistical route and see how that works instead.

I have fled from the idea that I am genuinely one hell of a smart dude all my life. I didn’t want to face it, or own it, or take responsibility for it. I ignored it, more or less, or saw it as nothing but a burden keeping me from relating to people.

That was the wrong route. I should have embraced it and rode that pony as far as it would take me. I think I would be a far healthier person now if I had embraced and cultivated my awesomeness and let the world decide what my limits were instead of staying all balled up inside myself.

And yeah, in theory, I could cop that big attitude now. I am, after all, incredibly intelligent and dazzlingly talented. I could be forgiven for deciding that I am freaking awesome no matter what anyone else says.

But I don’t know. I think perhaps my spirit is still too weak for that. And I have this nagging insistence on remaining objective in my way. It is how I relate to the world and it would be nearly impossible to give it up and start huffing my own fumes.

Still…. I hold it in reserve as a possibility.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.