Another day, another bout of having to write in my blog through the fog of bad sleep.
I might give my CPAP machine another try some time soon. Because I am very very sick of waking up feeling like utter crap.
Plus, of course, sleep apnea is very very bad for you. Funnily enough, repeatedly smothering in your sleep has adverse health effects.
But mostly it’s the feeling like crap thing.
If I was capable of being motivated to making changes in my life by mere definite long term dire consequences, I would have a glucometer by now.
Gave that another try last night. Was going to get an Accu-Chek. Got to the end of the process and it was like, “OK, now here’s the PDF of a coupon for you to print out!”.
And I am like, what the actual fuck? What millennium is this again? Who the fuck even has a working printer any more, let alone the inclination to print something out and then mail it in for a rebate?
So, fuck that noise. I will try again soon. I really want to get my blood sugar under control before my skin finally just gives up on me and sloughs off just as both of my feet die and go zombie.
It happens more often than you’d think.
So that’s the plan. Get the glucometer. Keep taking insulin till it gives a happy reading. Repeat at least twice a day after that.
It will probably make me feel a whole hell of a lot better too. It’s entirely possible that a lot of my depression is the result of physical as opposed to mental illness.
It’s depressing to feel terrible all the damned time.
Plus, there’s the whole not dying thing. Which is a plus. I guess.
I mean, I don’t want to die any more. At least, most of the time. And I definitely don’t want to end up in a lot of distress, pain, and unpleasantness. The kind that fucks things up severely my life and cuts me off from what little pleasure I do get.
That’s what would happen if I ended up in the hospital. Unless they let me somehow install my PC in my hospital room.
In which case, what the hell, do whatever you want to me. Just as long as I can go back to playing my games after.
To be honest, in many ways it would be a lifestyle improvement. After all, I would be eating healthfully, my living space would be very clean, someone would be making sure my blood sugar was good, and I would even have clean bedding.
But then again, I have always known I had the potential for Munchausen’s Syndrome. That’s when people do whatever it takes to stay in the hospital because it’s an environment where they feel safe and cared for.
That could totally be me….. if I had my PC. If I didn’t, boredom would definitely drive me to get better ASAP.
I mean, when I was in the hospital for pneumonia, I at least had a tablet on which to play games when I was bored. Between that, crossword puzzles, reading, and the fact that the pneumonia fatigued me enough that I was sleeping 12 hours a day, I was able to get by without the boredom driving me loco.
Wow, I totally forgot to finish this section off earlier. How unlike me.
Well it’s done now!
More (shortly) after the break.
I just realized that all of the above could be construed as a very good medical argument for why I should not be allowed to have my PC while in the hospital.
Hope that doesn’t come back to haunt me one day.
“You make an excellent argument, Mister Bertrand, but as you so clearly stated on your blog on March 23rd of this year, ‘ That could totally be me….. if I had my PC. If I didn’t, boredom would definitely drive me to get better ASAP. ‘ Well put, sir. ”
And damn it, I’d be right.
Today has been uneventful. Just another day in the life of a strangulated genius who longs to go out and romp in the green grassy fields with the other kiddies but is stuck inside with a never ending flu called “depression”.
I want to be out there. I want to have a life. I want to use my prodigious talents for my own personal gain for once. I want to be a living, breathing, active part of real life instead of always sitting on the sidelines, unnoticed and disconnected. I want to stretch and grow and engage and live and breathe the hot and heady air of freedom.
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay
I’ll try to find a happy game… to play.
Jesus. Until now, I had no idea the title of that song was “The Wrong Child”.
That hits me right in the feels. I have felt like The Wrong Child for my entire life. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here, I wasn’t supposed to be so broken and weird, I wasn’t supposed to have this much trouble socially, and I definitely wasn’t[ supposed to be taking up resources that could have gone to someone worthwhile.
So while technically I am no Boy in the Bubble like the one in the song, I sure as hell have felt that way.
And when you think of it, there’s really no difference between not being able to go outside because you’re physically sick and if you can’t because you are mentally ill.
It occurs to me just now that there is a whole lot of unfinished childhood in me. A lot of childhood that was supposed to happen but all my issues got in the way, and that still luies within me as developmental potential, just waiting for the signal to grow.
But to try to have a happy childhood when you are 46 years old is such a daunting prospect. I don’t even know where to begin.
But I do know one thing : there is no direct, logical, simple path to it. It’s not that kind of thing at all. It’s the sort of thing that can only come from one’s deep emotional core.
And for me, that means exactly one thing :
I can only get there by dreaming.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.