Warning, this is going to get horrifyingly medical and gross and it’s straight from my real life, so it’s all true.
Caveats over. Let’s begin.
A horrifying thing happened when I went in for Wound Care last Tuesday.
When the nurse, Joy, removed the bandage covering the major wound on my right leg, (brace yourself) some of the skin on that leg went with it.
Because the flesh of my right leg between the knee and the ankle is basically zombie flesh now and that’s the kind of thing that happens to zombies.
When the bandage came off, my mind immediately froze all thinking about what exactly that big pink patch of flesh meant.
Good work, brain. Kept me from freaking out.
Then again, who knows. Maybe freaking out would have got me more attention.
And some really good drugs. Hospital grade shit.
Nurse Joy sensed my potential panic like the great nurse she is and said there was some “discoloration” from a reaction to the adhesive in the bandage,
Which is technically true. It’s just that this “reaction” was the peeling off of the top layer of the epidermis in the affected area.
That area has now blossomed into a big nasty wound of its own.
And that’s the punchline : the bandage meant to help one wound heal ended up causing another major wound.
Because my leg is a zombie leg now and nothing about it follows the rules of the living.
I hate my stupid fucking life. I really do.
Been further pondering why it is so hard for me to get my life going.
It’s like I am in this deep self-induced hypnotic trance and can’t escape it. Everything I do just draws me deeper into the delusional state.
I’ve created this tiny inner world where I have the bare semblance of freedom but only as long as I participate in the illusion and don’t think any thoughts that might reveal the true nature of my tiny, wretched cell.
So I am like the prisoner who spends all his time looking out the window of his cell and in that sense lives his life “out there” and not “in here”.
Looking out the window is a very poor substitute for actual freedom, but it is all I have known for decades now and so for me, it’s reality.
That cell door could pop open and give me plenty of chance to escape but I would be too busy looking out the window to notice.
And even if I did notice, I would stay in my cell, because to leave would mean going away from my precious and beloved window.
But something is stirring within me. Something violent and savage and impatient and demanding that is sick and tired of my pathetic existence and is willing to kill crush and destroy its way out of these mess I have made of my life.
And every day, it grows stronger. Angrier. Tougher. Meaner.
And one day soon, it’s going to break its chains, kick down the walls of its prison, roar so loud it shakes the heavens, and head for town,
More after the break,
Fear of self
First off, a quick run through the formula :
I am afraid of my mental power because I am afraid of all the responsibility implied by it.
That’s not the only reason I fear my own power but it’s the biggest one by far.
The responsibility is too great for me to bear on my soul’s tiny shoulders. I am mentally gargantuan but spiritually miniscule and the difference between the two drives me mad.
Quite literally, in fact.
The other crux of my fear of my own vast powers is that other massive issue of mine, indecision. In order to use it, I would first have to decide what to use it for, and there are so many possibilities that choice seems impossible.
And it is impossible if desire is not a factor. The simplest answer to “what should I do?” is “do what you want!”, and I don’t know what I want.
Or maybe I do know on some level, but I am straight up afraid to want anything because my experience wanting only leads to the pain of not having or not getting, and so it is best to drown all desires before they are even born.
Between responsibility and indecision, it really seems like the deck is stacked against my getting anywhere in life.
The only thing that can save is strength. Not power- I have plenty of that.
No, what I am talking about is strength of spirit. And that boils down to calling on the power of the id. A greater and more reliable connect with my id-self could be the wellspring of energy that pushes me to the next level spiritually and that powers an entirely new outlook on life without this constant sucking void draining my vitality away.
The traditional and natural source of power for the id is one’s physical self, and as you all know, mine is kinda terrible.
So drawing on it directly is not an option right now. However, strengthening my connection to the real world of my senses and slowly weaning myself away from being so trapped in the abstract world of my mind and its stimulation is entirely doable.
It won’t be easy to just sit on my bed and open my mind to my senses to the exclusion of all else. I am bound to get scared and want to bolt back to the “safety” of my stinky little burrow deep inside my mind.
But if I guide myself with a firm but gentle hand, I can make it through. And if I hangin there through the worst of the storms of anxiety, I can emerge more whole and strong and pure on the other side.
So now I know exactly what it is I need to do,.
Now just to decide exactly when to do it….. hmmm….
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.