With spring comes sleep apnea, it seems.
It’s one of those sickening things where I didn’t really realize how nice it was that something was gone until it came back.
So like yesterday, I feel all messed up in the usual ways. I did some of my breathing exercises and that got me out of the worst of it – as in, I don’t feel like I am dying any more and I can think basic thoughts without pain.
But I still feel pretty burnt around the edges.
Still processing my recent revelations about my life being my own and there being no reason to feel like I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing because there isn’t anything I am supposed to be doing except deal with my illness the best I can.
As a result, I twitch-switch between three modes at random :
- Forgetful. Easy to fall back into old thought patterns, especially when bad sleep is compromising my mind. But I don’t worry about relapsing. I will continue to yank myself off that negative path and back onto the healthy one no matter how many times I have to do it in order to convince my brain that it would be easier to simply accept the new path as permanent.
- Hopeful. AKA The Good One. In this mode, I feel free and relaxed. I can accept myself, more or less. It’s a state that is as new and wobbly and fragile as a just-born calf, but it will get stronger with time. Especially if I feed it well.
- Terrified. That old familiar existential terror. A change this deep always comes with a feeling like a huge scary void just opened up in front of me and I am clinging precariously on the lip of a deep crater and trying to figure out how the hell I am going to cross it. But I know time is on my side and I can figure it out as I go and nothing bad will really happen. The crater is an illusion generated by my fears and I don’t have to follow its bullshit rules if I don’t want to.
As I work thorugh my issues via therapy and blogging, things will solidify, I am sure. The important thing is that I cling hard to the truth oif my freedom and not let my depression pull its usual distract and destroy bullshit it uses to protect itself.
This is my new shape, god damn it, and it is here to stay. It is whatever wants to change that which will bend. And I will not go back to bad habits of thought simply because it’s easier. Fuck easier.
So right now, all my spare energies are dedicated to hanging on to the new reality. Eventually, the fear will subside and I will be able to climb down from my precarious perch and cross the valley and climb to a brand new height.
But right now, I have to get some more fucking sleep.
One of the greatest advantages of age is forethought.
That’s why old age and treachery can always beat youth and vigor. What good are youth and vigor against an opponent who can see more of the chess board at once than you, and is therefore far better at predicting and manipulating outcomes?
I first noticed this phenomenon in myself when I was in my late 30’s. I noticed it after having an illuminating yet frustrating conversation with a furry friend who was in their early 20’s who was complaining about life problems that, to me, were clearly the outcomes of his own behaviour but to him were mysteries.
I did not, I am glad to say, give in to the urge to say something unhelpful like “well what did you expect to happen when you did A” or “you do B. That’s why you keep ending up in the same place. If you want to stop ending up in the same place, stop doing B. ”
I am not usually that blunt. It’s not always easy, because there is always a side of me that wants to hit people right between the eyes and to hell with their fragile emotions.
And if you are that kind of person, you can even staple a halo onto it by telling yourself you are “just being honest” and that you are just too “real” for some people who “can’t handle the truth” and are therefore weak and unworthy, unlike your rugged ass.
Luckily, I am not that kind of person. The most important thing to me is to help. I have a very strong urge to help people and make things better for them, and blasting them with the hard cold truth does not usually help.
Sometimes it does. Sometimes people need the short sharp shock of radical bluntness to snap them out of whatever foul illusion is plaguing them.
But I am not such a fool that I would think that justifies being totally blunt all the time. I am, after all. a pragmatist, and that means, among other things, that I consider myself to be responsible for all reasonably predictably consequences of my actions, and there is no room in this ethic for doing things I know will hurt people.
In its own way, it’s a very severe and austere morality. To a fault, probably. I might be better off with something that did allow for a certain amount of venting my emotions on others or some other special category of acceptable victims.
But that’s just not who I am. I am what I believe, and that means I have to live what I believe to the greatest extent possible.
Add in my empathy, and you can see why I live and die by results. I will know whether my words make someone happy or sad. In fact, I will experience that happiness or sadness myself. So that is always my bottom line.
Ergo I cannot do other than what I truly believe to be best for all involved. What I think will increase the amount of happiness in the world.
That runs so strong in me that it doesn’t even feel like a choice.
It’s just who I am. I am what I believe.
And there is no room in my heart or my soul for anything else.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.