I like posting video.

Still feeling stressed and depressed and repressed and compressed.

Went to the doctor this morning. Routine stuff, no worries there.

Got my B12 shot, which was nice.’ Always makes me feel a bit better. Also happy I remembered to bring the bottle.

Still kind of resent having that responsibility. But whatever.

Also got a flu shot. Always a good idea, both for practical reasons (immunosuppressed people like us diabetics need help staying healthy) and emotional reasons (as plague stalks the land, it made me feel better).

Both are important.

In fact, doing things to make myself feel better should really be a much higher priority for me. I am, after all, an emotionally ill person and need all the help I can get to feel good for a change.

But that’s where this gets weird. Because genius that I am, I know almost nothing about pursuing my own happiness.

For decades, my life mode has been “cling and endure”. Like a frigging barnacle. I just hang in there, hiding from the world in video games, changing nothing, ignoring reality as the days (and life) pass me by and my health slowly burns to the ground.

All with a presumption of my own utter powerlessness that runs so deep that it cuts at my entire emotional connection to life.

And outside of the madness, I know this isn’t true. I am not utterly powerless. There’s millions of things I could be doing to better myself!

I just have to…. choose one.

But that’s another issue, for another time.

The real issues is this profound paralysis deep inside my psyche. A deep chilling numbness that kills all attempts to seriously get moving and makes it so that where I should be feeling a surge of energy that drives me towards a goal, I feel a glacial wind blowing directly on my heart instead.

All of this keeps me locked in this long lazy looping death spiral and I want to save myself but the machine links between what I want and what I do are frozen shut, rusted over, and broken,

And, as I have already discussed, part of me doesn’t want me to get better at all. It wants me to get worse and worse until I die, or at the very least, till I get so sick that I end up in the hospital and all that horrible choice is taken away from me and all I have to do to be healthy is do what the doctors and nurses tell me to do.

It’s utterly obscene how good that sounds to me,

Makes me wish I could skip the getting sicker part and check myself into a nice cozy psych ward where I can get loads and loads of therapy and maybe actually get better.

Otherwise, I will have to somehow learn how to make myself happy. Which means I will first have to break the grip of this terrifying inner cold snap.

And where do I get the energy to do that?

More after the break,

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Fear the Future

It’s actually more like “Dread the Future”, but that didn’t alliterate.

I realized today that I still can’t picture the future. When I try, a white-hot sheet of glowing static fills the screen and blocks the image entirely.

And then there’s the dread. This is the big dread, the kind that needs no logical justification, not even a feared consequence.

It just fills your mind with the terrible sense that something really bad is going to happen and that stops you in your tracks. ^[1]

That’s gotten a lot worse lately because it become crystal clear that things are only going to get worse for me, healthwise, for the foreseeable future, and that I don’t have much future left in me.

The picture is so ugly that it’s no wonder my mind blocks it.

And the fact that there’s a voice in my head screaming at me to save myself by doing any of the millions of things I could be doing to improve my health isn’t helping.

I’d never turn it off, though. It might well be my only hope.

There has to be some way to shake off this paralysis. Something that will melt the glacier sitting on my heart, crushing the life out of me and keeping me down.

It’s a lot smaller than it was before, but it’s still enough to crush me flat and leave me too numb and broken to save myself.

And nobody can save me from myself.

So I am pretty much fucked.

But who knows. Maybe one of these days, the fear of ending up in the hospital full of tubes will connect with my mangled motivation machinery and I will actually start looking after myself properly.

I wouldn’t count on it, though, Not until the demon of suicidal tendencies can be exorcised from my fractured psyche.

All I wanted was a Pepsi.

I keep telling myself that I don’t want to die, and it helps for a while. For a little while, I can feel a few wan rays of sunshine and see, far off in the distance, what I think might be the sunshine and green meadows of my own promised land.

But then the shadows return and I wonder why I bothered.

I want to live, I want to be alive. I want to live long enough to get a life.

But right now I just don’t ses how to get there. I just can’t get there from here. If I am to truly heal, it will take something much bigger and more powerful than my ever so vaunted intellect can possibly encompass or even imagine.

And I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how it works.

I need the intervention of something bigger than me.

But that’s something I’ve never had and never will.

So I guess I’ll just die.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow,