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.