The three PDFs I apparently need to fill out and bring with me tomorrow have been put on a USB thumb drive and are on the way to being printed as we speak,
Thank you, Julian!
But of course, that seemingly simple operation had to end up being fucked up and complicated and aggravating too.
First off, my bad, I lost the USB drive Joe gave me last night. Plain black jobbie, simple, elegant, slick, and sleek,. Dunno how it happened. Best theory is that it fell out of my pants pockets at some point.
Having to tell him this was brutal. Us AVPD types are very sensitive to anger, rejection, disapproval, and so on, and he was, shall we say, deeply unimpressed.
I’m not happy with me about it either, Joe, but I needed to borrow your other one in order to get shit done, so I had no choice.
The other drive is in the shape of a tugboat because it’s a souvenir from nearby Steveston. And I love tugboats.
They are both cute and mighty.
But the tugboat shape makes it very fussy on how you can plug it in. Forget plugging it into a USB port above or below another USB port that is in use because it is going to take up ALL the space.
So I had to unplug my microphone to make room. No big deal, not using it at the moment, so whatever.
But then my mouse stopped working. And then it took my far too long to figure out that it was because I had unplugged it rather than the microphone.
In my defense, I had to untangle a shitload of cords to find this out.
Got things working again and got Julian the Tugboat of Destiny. With a total of nine pages of forms I have to fill out now.
What a bloody palaver.
This was also a Therapy Thursday, of course.
My poor therapist has had oral surgery recently. So he was in a lot of pain last Thursday, and mostly just listened.
Which is okay. Better than him interrupting me all the god damned time. But I think it works best when he asks me questions to get me going against when I run out of steam and have to think of some other conversational gambit.
Anyhow, in the last week the site of his surgery started bleeding again and he had to go back to the dental surgeon and get the whole thing done AGAIN.
That poor man!
So I did all the talking this week too. And I have to admit, I was somewhat gratified when at the end of the session, he told me he had a lot he wanted to say but couldn’t because of his oral issues,
Mua ha ha. That pleased the rarely activated “petty interpersonal bullshit” center of my brain. Too bad, I got to talk this time!
Still, I wish him a speedy recovery. I have had oral bleeding before. It is a horror show. Take all the scariness of bleeding from somewhere else and add the ever present risk of drowning in your own blood.
Luckily, I was preschool age at the time, and so the horror of it all did not strike me until I was much older.
Sometimes it is good to have only a shallow and immediate sense of what is going on.
I wonder if there’s a pill I could take for that. One that makes me shallow and stupid for long enough to get some awful task done.
Implications? What implications?
More after the break.
Medical update : forms received
Julian got the stupid forms for me, and it turns out there was a certain amount of redundancy, so I only have six pages of forms to fill out, not nine.
Whoop de fucking doo.
I will do my homework when I am done my blogging. Which shouldn’t be too long from now as I am quite prolific.
Honestly, I wish this whole thing was over already. I can’t wait to put this whole crazy thing behind me.
Then the next thing is seeing the cardiologist next Wednesday.
Being a sickie is so much work!
Hanging in there
What makes the difference between hanging in there and giving up?
There’s a lot of potential angles to that question. I could talk about how failure is addictive to some people and repeat stuff I have said before about going for the instant, massive relief giving up produces instead of enduring the pain of staying the course.
I could talk about my lack of passion and id, and how if I could find a way to get really mad at my problems, my stubbornness and defiance might kick in and see me through.
I could even talk about my AVPD and how it makes me timid.
But instead I will talk about the massive psychic wound at the center of my soul that dominates all that I do.
It’s the pain of that wound which makes me give up. So much of what normal people do is impossible for me because of the incredible pain my wound causes when I do.
In therapy today, I likened it to having some kind of terrible back injury. The kind where moving at all causes brutal pain and you are left with only a very small number of actions you can do without intense, life-destroying suffering.
So it’s like that. But psychological.
And that is why I am a cripple. No exaggeration. This wound of mine cripples me and has done so since the day I was raped.
Really puts my problems into perspective. Really helps me forgive myself.
It’s a wonder I ever got anywhere at all. I should be patting myself on the back for doing as well as I have. I could easily have succumbed to my suicidal thoughts (over) and ended everything a long time ago.
But I hang in there no matter what.
I am just too goddamned stubborn to die.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.