Today has been rough.

Why? Because my blood sugar is out of whack. I can’t find my Trajenta (it’s on this desk somewhere, I’m sure of it, probably) and as it turns out I really need that shit because without it I am miserable.

And yet, I’m also fine.

Let me explain.

This is where the double mirror image thing comes in. For some reason, the way this diabetic distress is playing out psychologically is that part of me feels like quivering death and another part of me feels fine.

Weird. Very weird.

It’s like I am seeing two reflections of myself, one normal and bright, the other suffering and dark. It is a bizarre mental sensation and I hope it changes once I eat.

At least I am not foolish enough to worry about which is the “real” me. All my facets are part of me, but no one of them is the “real” me any more than my little finger is the “real” me. I am not my parts.

Not sure that actually follows logically from the stuff about the mirror images, but it needed to be said anyhow.

In between fits of typing, I am hunting for that goddamned Trajenta. I really do not like feeling like this. This feeling is a very good incentive for taking care of myself.

Letting it go this long before looking is extremely foolish of me. But then, I am slowly surrendering my idea of myself as sensible.

I mean, sensible is as sensible does, and I “does” pretty foolish most of the time.

So I am a stumblin’ fool. I can work with that. Sort of save up my common sense so that I have it when I truly need it.

Otherwise I guess I need to rely on the kindness of my loved ones.

I ask so much of them. I am not low maintenance.

But clearly they consider me worth the cost, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Going back to Trajenta, I have no idea how that big box of it I had could have gone missing. It’s a mystery.

Eventually I will have to start checking all the weird places. Under things, behind things, in between things, and so on.

Woops, sudden brainwave, got to do a forgive :

I forgive myself for being a slob. Some people are tidy and some people are sloppy and I happen to be one of the sloppy ones.

There are far worse things to be.

I’ve always been this way. I think it’s because nobody ever expected anything else of me. You can’t internalize discipline you’re never given.

Then again, I have been depressed for most of my life too. And there’s definitely a part of me that wants things to be neat and tidy and orderly and that is greatly distressed by the filth and chaos in which I live.

I’ve just always been too depressed to do anything about it. So I ignore it the best I can.

I get the feeling that’s my approach to a lot of things in life. Food for thought.

More after the break.

---

Life in this association

I have figured out that I have spent most of my life in a disassociative state.

Well, semi-dissociative anyhow. If I was fully dissociative, I would be in a rubber room somewhere drooling on the padding while living in a world of my imagination.

And I am pretty sure I’m not. Mainly because I refuse to believe that my powers of imagination are so weak that if I was trapped in my mind, I wouldn’t be able to manage enough lucid dreaming to be able to imagine a fat pile of gold coins into existence on my bed right now.

Nope. Just tried it. Nuthin’.

Good, because if that had worked, I probably would have died of a heart attack.

Anyhow, so when I talk about living in a dissociative state, I am not talking about major psychotic break with reality level dissociation.

I’m talking something I will call “alienation from reality”, and it largely centers around feelings of unreality.

Feeling like I’m not real, feeling like the world isn’t real, feeling like nobody means anything they say (emotions aren’t real?), feeling lost in time and space, feeling surrounded by a howling maelstrom whose icy winds strip all warmth and life from your soul while the endless howling leaves you deafened and numb.

You know. Totally normal stuff like that.

And what’s more, repeated or long term dissociative states lead to other familiar things, like memory loss, depression, suicidal ideation, memory loss, repeated blank fugue states (mind wandering off at inappropriate moments), and difficulty focusing.

I have all of those more or less all the time. It’s kind of hard to imagine them not being there. I have lived in this land of fog and ice for as long as I remember.

Feeling disconnected, forgetting really basic things all the time, living in a constant state of disorientation, not noticing super obvious things in my environment.. these are fundamental parts of the basic structure of my reality.

And that’s not, like… normal.

And it’s not my fault, either. Time for another forgive.

I forgive myself for being such a space case. For being absentminded and spaced out and lost in my own head all the time. I forgive myself for mostly withdrawing from reality as a response to being raped and I forgive myself for never coming out of that bunked one inch more than absolutely necessary in order to deal with life.

It was never a choice. It was what I had to do to survive. And now, at long last, I am stripping away the layers of insulation and attempting my own liberation.

And throughout this process, I will remember that this “hunker in the bunker” reality of mine is not the only reality that I can experience.

I can be out there in the sunshine of the real world, coping and feeling and dealing with things with all of the rest of the kiddies.

And that’s my goal. My destination. My freedom.

Got a lot of spiritual ground to cover until then, but I’m not worried.

It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.