That’s the part of Limbo that is closest to Hell.

At first, I was going to say I was in purgatory, but that would imply hope of of future release when I am done purging.

And while that does describe my situation, I have been purging for a long time and it’s hard to see when it will end.

I’ve not been well lately, as you know. There’s the hunger stuff I talked about yesterday. Things look a little brighter on that front because I realized that I haven’t been taking one of my meds, Trajenta (aka Linagliptin, which sounds like a wish-granting gnome),  and therefore hopefully when I get back on it, I will feel better.

Or at least less bad.

Because that’s the thing. I feel pretty crappy most of the time. I’m almost always a little dizzy due to fluid in my ears from my sinus bullshit. I think blood pressure variations and blood pooling due to being so sedentary also plays a part in that. I’ve been living with that for so long that it’s hard for me to remember that it is not normal.

For as long as I can remember there have been times when it felt like reality was rushing away from me and it gets so hard to stay focused in the here and now and I feel like I am stuggling to be heard over a roaring wind only I can hear.

That’s probably not normal. I am really quite unstable. This inner neighborhood of mine is a pretty fucked up place. There’s a lot of invisible chaos going on all the time and I have, as a defense mechanism, learned to hunker in my  bunker and tune it all out by burying myself in my distractions.

In such a fix, the last thing I want to do is add to the chaos by increasing external stimulation. Sometimes outer stimulation actually subtracts from the chaos by pulling me out of myself, but that’s only when I can relax in the situation and that seems nearly impossible lately.

Instead, I tend to go around in a shark-cage of anxiety and chaos that is awful to experience but which cuts me off from the world and thus produces the “desired” effect of damping down the terrifying stimulation levels.

It’s a complicated system.

I’m also a little nauseous nearly all the time. That’s also normal for me. There is nearly always somethuing a-bubblin’ down below. That’s just part of having IBS, at least for me. Plus I think the dizziness is a factor in that as well. like I always have a touch of motion sickness just for moving around when I am all dizzy.

This leads to a feeling of constant disorientation, and that’s been with me for a long time too. I often feel overwhelmed by ordinary things and feel lost in a icy sea of numb confusion as I try to deal with the world while chaotic madness screams in my ear.

No wonder I isolate from the world. Anyone would, if they had to deal with what I have to deal with. It’s like living in a war zone to be me. So much sturm und drang to deal with that I can do little but withdraw into the mental stimulation that is the only thing I know that offers me some kind of shelter from the storm.

Of course, living like that is probably how things got so bad in the first place.

Then there is the random sleepiness. That makes it hard to deal with life too. I assume that my sleep apnea is the main player in that issue. It’s untreated and probably killing me right along with my lousy-ish diet and my semi-treated diabetes and my being really fucking fat. I never know when a wave of sleepiness will hit me and therefore I get nervous when I have to be away from my bed for too long.

As long as I live like an urban hermit, I can nap whenever I like. Like I have said before, I can go from sitting in my computer chair to lying down in bed without even getting up. That’s how close the chair is to my big white elephant of a king sized bed.

I’m more queen-sized.

I just roll out of the chair and I am there. Which is handy from an “efficient sloth” point of view, but probably not good for me in the long run.

I would probably be better off if some things in my life took a little more effort. IT wold encourage me to invest more energy into life instead of holding back all the time out of some inane sense of conservation.

But bodily energy and wherewithal are not like money. You can’t hoard it. You can’t save it up. There is no benefit to being frugal with it.

What it CAN do, however, is make you miserable for not letting it out so it can express and expend itself. Like a large dog made neurotic through lack of exercise, unexpressed personal energy can really mess up your life.

It might even make your inner life a chaotic storm of war and confusion.

Food for thought.

And under all the other unpleasant sensations is a deep ache like my nerves are being filed down with an icicle. It’s the silent scream that slowly vents my internal pressures by very weakly expressing then, and I suppose if it wasn’t there. things might be worse.

But then they might get better. Sometimes i wonder if I would be better off if I cut myself off from all my existing outlets so that the pressure had to either force me to act or build to the point where the whole stupid broken fucked up system explodes, and afterward I can pick up the piece and try to put together some version of myself that works.

It would take a lot of strength. And I don’t have a lot of strength.

But I do have a lot of gall and a kind of kamikaze fatalism that can substitute.

I will talk to your nice people again tomorrow.

And the band plays on.

Feeling pretty random and stressed today. Had one of my extreme hunger attacks, the kind that a full healthy lunch does not satisfy, nor does a hearty snack in midafternoon.

In fact, it’s only slackened right about now, when it’s dark, and my pizza just arrived.

PErhaps it is merely temporarily stunned by the presence of a fair bit of food. I dunno.

But this shit is really stressing me out, dawg. Being that hungry really raises the adrenaline levels and I can’t handle that shit right now.

It’s bad enough that I am sleepy all the damned time.

Well, I bit the bullet and looked up the connection between diabetes and extreme hunger, and as I suspected, the news is rather grim.

I mean, there was no way this was going to have a happy ending.

“Congratulations! Extreme hunger means you are not diabetec any more and can eat whatever the fuck you want for the rest of your life!”.

Yeah. Not gonna happen.

It turns out the answer is simple,. logical, and terrifying. The reason I get so goddamned hungry that I want to scream is that the insulin in my body is performing so poorly that the energy in the food I eat is not making it into the cells and therefore I really am starving in that sense.

Fat and starving. Lovely.

So far, I see no direct solutions online. Just “control your diabetes!”.

Well duh. I thought I was. Obviously not.

Exercising might help. Or make things worse. Obviously,. it is the insulin resistance that is the acting mechanism of my Type 2 Diabetes which is the problem.

I must be resistant as hell right now.

And I don’t know what to do about that. I am taking drugs to lower my resistence but obviously they are not keeping up. I fucked myself up pretty bad when I went without mneds for like a month because I was too depressed to even make the appointment to see the doctor. let alone get there.

So this might be the thing that finally puts me in the real danger zone. I’ve been watching the brick wall of my failing health approach me for so long that I find it hard to believe it has finally arrived, but here it is.

It’s been clear to me for a long time that I am going to die young. The trend is obvious from myt point of view. My depression prevents me from taking proper care of my complex physical health issues and therefore they will continue to get worse until I end up in the hospital if I am lucky and a pine box if I am not.

Suicide is not the only way depression can kill you.

For one thing, it can make you so numb to life that mortal danger doesn’t mean anything to you. I feel, in a very literal sense, fatalistic about the whole thing. I know, intellectually, that if anything should be able to motivate a person. life-threatening illness should be it. but oh well.

None of that actually repairs my motivational circuits. I don’t want to die – I have at least some that far. And I very much fear ending up with a far worse quality of life than I have right now. I have nightmares where I wake up in the hospital full of tubes and strapped to the bed, unable to move and screaming my head off.

But somewhere between the emotion that should motivate action and actual action, shit breaks down, and nothing happens.

I wish I could check myself into the hospital preventatively. Tell the admitting nurse that I am a danger to myself due to my depression and that I seriously need immediate medical intervention because my cells are dying of starvation.

But it doesn’t work that way. They don’t prevent problems. They treat them. “Come back when you’re in a coma!”, they would say.

Can’t I just have the coma now, and save everyone the expense of an ambulance ride?

Still no idea what to do about the hunger. I certainly can’t start eating tons more. For one, I can’t afford it, and for two, that would probably kill me.

And for three, eating all the goddamned time would be too damned depressing.

And I can’t add high-density glucose to my diet in order to overcome the resistance because that would be sugary foods and those are goddamned poison to me.

That does explain why I have been craving the sweet stuff lately, though. My body is trying to get the glucose into my muscles etc any way it can and it is not worried about the long term consequences.

But that road is deadly to me and so I resist. It’s not easy. I really had to struggle with myself when I was ordering the pizza in order to stop myself from adding one of Pizza Hut’s deadly delights along with my meal.

I just kept repeating, “I don’t want to hurt myself. ” until I was in control again. And that’s good because it means I am getting back to where I recognize that the evil sweet stuff causes me not just harm but pain. After I eat it, I feel sick.

And so it’s just not worth it. Sure, the pleasure/reward jolt is great for my mood, and having that to look forward to helps as well, but bottom line. it is just plain not worth it.

I can get the same pleasure/reward jolt from sugar free desserts. And I can afford them. So it’s just a matter of getting myself some.

And that involves not being so sticker-shock prone when it comes to buying stuff online. I have to remember that I have money now and can afford to splurge now and then.

I could have something dessert-like with every meal if I got my poop in a group.

But that’s the almight If, isn’t it? The crippling contingency.

It’s not that I am never going to do Thing X.  It’s that I can’t do thing X because first I have to do Thing Y.

And I am never going to do Thing Y.

But I am totally doing to do Thing X some day!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.