And enjoying life more.
Been having modest success in letting myself act on impulse more often. The idea is to dismantle almost all of the “cautious” machinery in my head that has smothered my id and made me so weak and cowardly.
It’s all just bullshit I invented so I didn’t have to face reality anyway. Just layers and layers of excuses and lies and dodges and obfuscation and numbness and dry dead tissue whose only purpose was to push reality further and further away and let me live in a world of media consumption and little else.
And all in the interests of “safety”. But not true safety. Safety defined as freedom from anxiety. And that means doing whatever the anxiety demands of you, no matter how soul-crushing and life-destroying it is.
The kicker, of course, is that this so-called “safety” is far worse than most of the things you are afraid might happen if you stray outside the strict confines of your fear.
It’s heartbreaking to realize you have chosen reliable unhappiness over actually getting out there and living life.
And all because my parents stopped paying for college and moved me back home. That’s what did me in.
Like I’ve said before, that sent me into a psychological death spiral that might have killed me. My mind just plain fell apart. I was dehydrated, malnourished, paranoid, depressed, and miserable.
And I dragged myself out of that all by myself. Forced myself to drink water and eat and get off the couch more and fight back against the madness plaguing me. And I got myself to where I could at least function on a low level.
But went no further.
Fast forward 25 years to today and I am still all jammed up. It’s like when my development was interrupted, all those vital life energies that were flowing into making me grow froze in place and clogged up the system.
And it’s that almighty clog that has acted like a lump in my throat, choking the life out of me and making it hard to live, for all these years. I’ve never been able to shift it.
And that’s because deep down, I don’t want to. Horrible as it is, I have grown accustomed to this truncated lifestyle, and the idea of no longer having the clog as a barrier between me and the world terrifies me.
So I write my words and do therapy over the phone in order to slowly reduce the size and weight of the clog.
And as it shrinks, I grow.
And because it’s a slow process, I have time to adjust to the changes and don’t have to face the existential terror of sudden exposure to the world.
But who knows. Maybe one of these days, I will have made my clog so small that it washes away like a log jam cleared by the spring thaw.
And then I will finally be able to breathe free, walk in the sun, and go on to live my life.
It’s about time.
More after the break,
Had another meeting about Secret Project tonight and I thought it went quite well. In addition to E, the guy who brought me into the project, I met the other half of the team, D, and we talked over series bibles and season arcs and such.
And I was late. D’oh! Not the worst crime in the world, in the grand scheme of things but I personally haaaaaaate ever being late for anything.
On an emotional level, to me, an agreed upon meeting time is a promise, ergo being late is tantamount to breaking a promise.
Now that I have typed it out, I realize it’s a pretty severe view.
But that’s just how I’m built.
The meeting went fine anyhow. I really enjoyed the discussion. I felt very relaxed and comfortable talking to these guys.
And what’s more, it felt right. It felt like I was finally where I belong. This was the connection and the camaraderie I thought I would find at VFS.
But of course, nothing against my classmates, but they were a somewhat random group of very young people who thought they wanted to write for TV and movies.
That was not the powerful selector I thought it would be. I thought I would be rubbing elbows with high energy creative types like me, but that was wishful thinking.
But today’s meeting was great and I can’t wait to do more of it.
This is gonna be awesome!
Healthwise, my Demon Nipple remains. It’s looking less demonic,though. It’s more pink than red now, and its chanting in backwards Latin sounds a lot less angry.
These antibiotics go great with holy water, too!
Seriously though, the thing is still there, and still leaking. I was worried when i ran out of the big bandages/dressings they gave me at the hospital and was still getting a lot of discharge from my unwanted guest.
But it turns out I can just jam a Kleenex in there and my flab holds it in place.
Try THAT with a skinny body!
So I have been changing Kleenexes now and then all day.
It ain’t fun, but it works.
Warning, medical grossness level upgraded to “severe”.
The discharge appears clear but on the tissue, it’s yellowish and greasy. Makes me wonder if I am leaking adipose tissue AKA fat.
If so, go for it. Bleed me skinny, Demon Nipple.
Bet nobody’s said that before!
At least I feel better now. I still feel kind of infected in that I still feel more tired than usual and I am too hot, but it doesn’t get me down much.
Oh, but I have been having dizzy spells lately. Gotta write that down before it gets lost in the chaos of my mind.
They happen in moments where normally my sense of balance would fix it in a second. Like when my leg brushes against something as I walk, or I stumble slightly, or I step on something accidentally that surprises me.
Those things happen and I am instantly very dizzy and there have been three or four times when only my reflexes and the fact that in a small apartment like this, there’s always something nearby to grab or lean against handy that saved me from having a serious fucking accident.
So I am being very, very careful as I move about.
Because only a fool bets their life on always making their saving throw.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.