…in the house? Can he call me?
Because in-person medicine is a thing of the past since Covid.
Call my doctor, he’ll be calling me tomorrow at 11:30 am.
That’s uncomfortably close to my therapist calling me at 12:45 pm, but whatever. I will blunder my way through somehow,
Feeling pretty crappy at the moment. My throat is dry and scratchy and I’ve been coughing a little bit. That fiery furnace in my core is on full blast again and so I feel very hot and stifled. Also feeling very tired and strung out.
Maybe I am getting Covid. I sure as fuck hope not but it’s a possibility.
i guess I would end up in some isolation ward with tubes everywhere if that were the case. Don’t think I could handle that at all.
No tubes down my throat ever. If it absolutely cannot be helped because without it, I will die right then, please keep me asleep until you can take them out again.
I’m having a serious panic attack just thinking about it. Moving on.
I’ve slept a ton already. At least six hours. And I am still quite sleepy, although my Diet Coke is helping with that.
Still feeling pretty scared. Spooked, even, The world is a much scarier place when you are feeble and weak.
I feel like there’s a giant shoe hovering over me, waiting to squash me, and all I can do is shiver in its shadow,
And I wish I could just escape all of this. Run away and hide till its all over. Get out from under that shoe and avoid the avalanche of entirely predictable consequences of my lack of action on my health that it represents.
Because that’s the worst part of this, at least emotionally. I knew that not taking proper care of myself would lead to my getting sicker and sicker and still, I did nothing.
I guess I thought I had more time. Stupid.
It’s not like I don’t know what I should be doing. I’m a scary smart dude, I always know what I should be doing.
Doesn’t mean i feel the motivation to do it, though. And without the motivation, there is nothing to propel me through the pain of change.
So it doesn’t happen. And all the “should” in the world won’t change that.
Even if it means saving my own life.
I guess my life still doesn’t seem worth saving to me.
I mean, why go to all that trouble and hassle and anxiety and pain to save something so worthless, lowly, and cheap?
And I know how crazy and wrong that is. If there is one motivation all human beings are supposed to share, it’s the desire to stay alive,
And it’s not that I want to die. I very much don’t. It may not sound like much, but for me it represents a lot of progress.
I can at least feel fear at the prospect of my own demise now.
But that’s not the same thing as getting the motivation to change.
It should be, but it isn’t.
But I keep trying. I stimulate the emotional center that should be producing the motivation and it slowly comes to life.
But there’s a lot of emotionally dead tissue to drill through first.
Hope I break through before I die,
More after the break.
Still feeling small and scared and weak.
Did some work for D and E tonight, Added a ton of illustrative examples to the character profile I did for them,
And by that, I mean little scenelets that demonstrate the points I make about the character’s personality et al. D said he wanted more show and less tell, and I added a fuckton of show tonight.
And phew, was that a lot of skullduggery, Really burned through a lot of brain calories. I must have written a dozen little scenes and each one was a fresh creation that I came up with on the spot, as it were.
Don’t get me wrote. It was fun. This kind of writing is always fun for me.
But it was also a lot of hard work, and I wouldn’t want to have to do it again until I got a good night’s sleep, at least.
Haven’t taken the pill lately, but I seem to be sleeping okay without it. I’ve been sleeping a lot of hours in a row, which is good,
The only difference is that without the pill, I have to get up and pee more often. On the other hand, I don’t have nearly as much trouble waking up.
So I guess for now the pill is there for when I need it but I won’t necessarily need it all that often, or so it seems.
Who knows, maybe I’ve actually gotten better at sleeping.
If so, it’s about damned time. I have had a hard time sleeping ever since I was in first grade. Possibly even sooner than that, but I don’t remember.
I’ve always had a hard time getting my mind to quiet down enough to let me sleep. I supposed it’s a side effect of both my hyperintelligence and the related strong need for mental stimulation I have had since forever.
So I spend all day stimulating my giant brain and then, when I lay me down to sleep, the party in my head is still going full blast. It takes forever for me to shut it all down, especially since my mind also generates its own stimulation via deep contemplation, and so shutting down one thing can actually cause two new things to spawn.
Hence my lifelong desire for a really strong sleeping pill. One strong enough to render the whole question moot because it can overpower my chatterbox of a brain and put me to sleep no matter what.
Sadly, I have yet to find that magic pill. I am beginning to think it does not exist, and that the only way to get the result I want is to hire a full time anesthesiologist.
What I get instead are pills that do a much better job of making it hard to wake up than they do of making it easier to get to sleep.
Oh well, Such is the price of genius, I suppose.
Nobody ever said being scary smart was easy.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow,