Once more, we hit the angrily nihilistic phase of my long mood cycle.

AKA the “fuck everything forever” phase. Right now, I hate the world, hate life, hate people, hate things, and hate being alive, in no particular order.

Everything is stupid and pointless and it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t count. My life is an unfunny joke where the setup is that I am a genius who is also massively talented, charismatic, and lovable, and the punchline is that I am too damned mentally and physically ill to use any of it to better myself..

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Right now, I am angry at everything because everything hurts. Nothing seems good or pleasant or pure. I have a strong urge to just blindly lash out at everything.

I won’t. of course. That would be too much like being my late Dad.

And I would rather die.

But that’s the sort of mood I am in.

I would love to be able to actually get a life and start living it. Get a job, a boyfriend, my own place. Be self-sufficient for the first time in my crummy lousy life.

But I have all this suffering to do….

That’s really what it feels like to me. Like there is this enormous amount of pain and suffering inside me and while it is still there, I will keep not being able to get together the motivation for much of anything because dealing with it sucks up all the energy inside me, leaving me the limp receptacle you see before you.

I feel like such a failure.

I feel like I should have been able to get it together enough to solve my problems by now. Like I should have found the strength to concentrate and focus enough to keep trying to fix myself until something goddamned worked instead of wimping out for months or years at the slightest sign of difficulty.

But the truth is, I just didn’t care enough about myself. My own plight didn’t move me. It still doesn’t, for the most part.

It takes something as fucked up as what is happening to my legs to really motivate me to do something for myself.

At least SOMETHING can do it.

As it turns out, being unable to walk without excruciating pain did the trick.

Other than that, though, I am still on the same collision course trajectory to die a stupid, pointless, disgusting, horrible death in utter squalor and ignonimity. The final squalid and tragically untragic end to a life badly lived and largely wasted.

So much potential washed down the drain like yesterday’s dishwater. So many years stuffed down the disposal and shredded then flushes away. All this time spent just barely hanging on by playing video games all day.

I remember having a life. It was nice.

It wasn’t much, and it certainly didn’t include employment or relationships. But I at least did stuff outside the home sometimes, and got there and back on my own.

But even before my legs went wrong on me, I was a total recluse who only ever left the domicile for medical appointments and shopping plus Denny’s on Sunday.

Now I do my shopping online. So it’s just Denny’s.

I don’t want to die before I ever get a chance to live. I don’t want to disappear before I have even made a mark on life. I don’t want my death to be the final punchline to the long and incoherent joke that is my life.

But I feel like I am trapped on this path by my own gnawing weakness. It doesn’t matter what I want or need, this is all my fragile internal skeleton can bear.

There has to be a way out of this. There has to be. And if not, I will make one.

But this shit has got to end. I need to find ways to nourish my soul. I need to learn to find the happiness and joy in life.

And I need to get stronger.

More after the break.

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The need to feed

Feed my spirit, that is.

Feeding the body is comparatively easy.

I have, admittedly, made a hash of it in the past.

When I think of all those chips, pretzels, and crackers (et. al.) I used to eat, my who endocrine system shudders. How did I even survive that?

Nature finds a way.

But right now I am doing fairly well. Not a lot of carbs in my diet. Plenty of healthy things like fruit, nuts, and veggies. No sugar, no starchy foods, no BS like dried fruit (except for raisins) which is basically candy in terms of nutritional content.

If only that, plus taking my meds, was all it took to control my diabetes.

But um, they kind of expect me to move around more too. Which is much harder for me to do given my aversion to my own adrenaline.

Plus, as we have discussed, the universe appears to be really against my getting exercise because it keeps making it harder.

I’m unhealthy in ways that keep me from getting exercise.

I got this unhealthy by not exercising at all.

You know what would fix that? The exercise I can’t do.

It’s a heck of a catch, that Catch-22.

Almost fell after leaving Denny’s tonight.. We were standing on the handicap access ramp saying out goodbyes and I tipped forward and would have had a nasty fall flat onto my front on a concrete stair but my friends were right there and caught me and held me up till I could get my footing.

It was, in retrospect, exactly like those times I feel after getting out of a cab. I just can’t stand on uneven ground any more. Even the gentle slope of a handicapped access ramp is far too much for my messed up body.

Why/ Because I can no longer make the little body adjustments a person would normally make to maintain balance in that situation. I’m far too stiff.

Oh well. Twas yet another reminder of how close to being a gimp I am.

Hope the hospital calls about that CT scan soon.

Maybe I will call them tomorrow just to check up on things. Make sure they actually have a req from Doctor Chao.

No, YOU are compulsively paranoid and controlling!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.