Almost landed in the ER again. ;
Was having trouble breathing early in the ER. My throat was sore and my breathing was getting hoarse. I even got all my clothes on in preparation for an ambulance trip.
I’ve learned my lesson. Having to get dressed in a hurry when you might be having a cardiac even sucks. From now on, I dress FIRST, then call 911.
Unless shit’s very harsh, of course. In which case, fuck it, I’ll go naked.
But as it turned out, I ended up falling asleep instead, and when I woke up things were more or less back to normal.
So maybe it was a panic attack in disguise. I dunno.
This was after another tortuous night of back pain. Nonstop spinal torture centered around that always difficult lumbar region.
I spend a lot of time trying to bend, rub, and stretch my way to freedom and I was running out of rope when I stumbled upon the solution :
Water. Good ol’ hydration. Apparently some part of me was all swole up from my being sharply behind on my liquid needs and that was what was exerting the pressure in my abdomen that caused the pain.
Glad I finally figured it out because I was getting pretty desperate. Crazed, even.
Of course, for me, pain is only created, never destroyed, so something else had to start fucking up to fill the void.
This time, it’s my upper leg muscles once again. Get these cramps right in the middle of the meat of the leg. I assume they are a legacy of Taxi Fall 2.
Oh well, this too shall pass and it will be time to spin the Wheel of Pain again.
Otherwise, today has been reasonably OK. It’s sunny and 20° C, so it seems like summer is finally here.
The sunshine got here ages ago but the warmth has been on back-order for ages.
Must be those pesky supply chain issues.
Today’s the first time in three weeks plus that I have not needed to go anywhere. And in theory, it’s a relief to be able to relax all day again.
But we both know that’s bullshit. I don’t want to go back to my previous lumpen existence. I don’t want to face all those empty hours again now that I have had a taste of life with an actual purpose.
The only solution would be to learn to generate my own purpose, and I might not be strong enough to do that yet.
The best I can hope to do is to hitch my wagon to some larger purpose outside myself and let it tow me in the right direction.
`Which sounds an awful lot like going back to school. Call it my “Academic Superstar” plan. Get myself into academia and wow the right people and get scholarships and mentorships and fellowships and all that other good stuff.
Honestly, I just want to be somewhere where my gifts count for something. Where, at long last, being super gifted earns me some actual gifts.
I’m a once in a generation genius, god damn it.
That has to be worth a buck or two!
More after the break.
Down, down, down
Well, here I am in the cesspit of the void again, drowning in darkness.
Big fucking deal. Whatever. This too shall pass. I am in too pissy a mood to give in to my depression’s weak-ass bullshit.
Maybe that’s where all the angry people come from. They are people who learned to treat their depression by turning it into anger.
I can see the appeal. It turns a feeling of weakness directly into the illusion of strength.
It’s not strength, of course. It’s a lose of self-control and a failure to regulate your own emotions, forcing others to take the burden from you.
Sure feels good at the time, though, I imagine.
No mystery as to where this black mood comes from : it’s compounded frustration. I have felt restless and trapped and pissed off all day and when enough of that feeling gets bottled up it has no choice but to pop the radiator cap on my mood and send the pressure shooting into whatever its default low-level release mode is.
For me it’s depression. For others, it might be anxiety, or rage.
Of course, all the fear and worry from my health issues doesn’t help things one bit. That definitely adds steam pressure to the whole system.
And I would love to be able to just relax and put myself in the hands of the professionals , knowing they know what is best for me, but they fucking don’t.
None of them can see the big picture. Me as a single living organism, instead of me as a name attached to a list of symptoms that apparently they don’t fucking understand.
No that I am bitter.
Oh wait, yes I am. Deeply bitter. Like cyanide, I am bitter.
As I see it right now, it’s my mental health issues that are holding me back. So they should be the focus of my attempts to get better.
If I could get myself sane enough to look after myself properly, the rest will follow.
Small problem : that’s not possible. My mental health issues are not the sort of thing you can conquer by buckling down and working hard.
I already have everything society is prepared to give me : drugs and an hour of therapy a week. If that’s not good enough, tough.
We don’t waste precious mental health dollars on mere depressives. Especially boring ones who haven’t even tried to commit suicide yet.
Get a more exciting illness, loser!
All I know how to do to help myself is write the blog you are reading right now. And it’s like trying to empty a lake with a teaspoon, but it’s all I have.
What I need is a nice long stay in a mental institution where I can get intensive daily therapy in multiple modes until I feel a lot better.
But that sounds suspicious like the old, boring kind of medicine where you stick with a problem until you solve it.
And who has time for that shit?
Screw that. This patient is broken, mommy. I want a new one!
Again. Not that I am (incredibly) bitter.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.