Kind of in a mood tailspin right now.

Just spiraling downward like a plane that’s lost a wing. And like the pilot of such an unfortunate vehicle, I am doing my best to at least crash gently.

Not sure why it’s happening. Not that there needs to be an explanation beyond the usual neurochemical chaos of my disordered and diseased mind.

The trigger was realizing that because I stupidly played Fallout 76 right up to my usual 3 pm mealtime, I was too tired to eat let along blog, and so now I had to lay down for who knows how long and throw my timing off completely.

To top it off, instead of just going directly to sleep after Fallout 76, I played a game on my tablet for half an hour first. thus putting me further forward in time.

Annoyed grunt! I am a silly person who does foolish things.

So the real downward spiral started when I woke up at 4:20 pm and realized how behind schedule I was.

Cue the self-excoriation. As usual. Sigh.

At this point in my recovery, these orgies of self-flagellation are not something I can entirely prevent. I can hold them back when everything is going more or less fine and I haven’t fucked up or failed in any unusual way recently.

But when I do mess things up, there is no way I am going to be able to hold back the dark tide of self-loathing by sheer force of will. Cognitive capture is not nearly enough.

So I don’t try. I instead let the Stygian flood rise and fall, unimpeded, knowing that once the waters recede I will be sane again and can put myself back together.

That’s the theory, anyhow. In practice, sometimes that fails too and I end up quite soggy and not entirely sane for a while.

Oh well. Sanity is overrated anyhow. Like Ford Prefect said in Life. the Universe, and Everything by Douglas Adams. sometimes it’s best to just go crazy now and save your sanity for later.

Sometimes, you have to let your mad dogs howl and get it out of their system. That pressure has to be vented somehow. Better that it does so on your terms.

So even though I feel my mood sliding downwards, I am not worried. Whatever needs to happen will happen and it might be bad for a while but I will still be here at the end.

Issues aside, I am a fundamentally stable dude. If I wasn’t, I would have been in and out of hospitals all the time like some of my fellow sufferers and might even have a number of suicide attempts to my name.

But no. I exercise my own brand of iron self-control for a reason. I can keep myself going on autopilot or by sheer force of will for aqs long as it takes for things to go back to my sad little version of normal.

In fact, I do it all the time, without even thinking about it.

As usual, though, I have to wonder if I would be better off going crazy for a while. Having one of those famous nervous breakdowns and letting myself fall apart.

But that’s for people who have unconscious faith that someone, somewhere, will take care of them while they are crazy and that they are not utterly alone in the world.

I have no such faith.

More after the break.

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Dazed by the aftershock

Man, I just can’t catch up today.

Now I am having my “supper” at 10:10 pm because I slept from 5 pm till 10 pm.

So now I have to eat enough to keep my body and soul together (they’re in relationship counseling and working on communication) but not enough to spoil my appetite for my usual midnight snack, which is in less than two hours.

How did things get so god damned complicated? Oh well, why should my daily routine be any neater and cleaner than the rest of my life.

Welcome to the pig sty. I hate it yet feel powerless to change it.

Eating issues aside, I am also, as has become tradition, screwed up by intense REM sleep. I feel woozy and disoriented and honestly just want to go back to sleep.

Not that I have time for that. God damn it.

So, this is my life. Nothing is reliable, everything is broken, and entropy rules all.

And the most broken thing is,. of course, me.

God, I am so fed up with this feeble god damned life of mine. Here I am, a truly one of a kind talent and intellect, with gifts most people would love to have, and yet my mental health issues keep me cooped up in this monk’s cell of a life. Hiding from the world. Burying my head in the sand by playing video games all the damned time. Dying a little bit more every day in this coffin. Living in filth because I can’t bring myself to wake the demon inside by attempting to clean.

Feeling like I am a seed buried too deep that can never reach the sunlight above. All I can do is dig through the dirt with agonizing slowness.

I deserve so much better than this. I should be a famous writer and creator by now,. with a comfy lifestyle, moderate renown, and a snuggly cute boyfriend.

Is that too much to ask, world?

But of course, the problem isn’t the universe, It’s me. I’m broken inside. And in such a way that it makes it so hard to help myself and nearly impossible for anyone else to help me at all.

I’m too good at keeping people at arm’s length without being obvious about it for that. For someone to help me I would have to be capable of lowering my defenses and letting them in, and that is not currently in the cards.

I am not even candid and open with my therapist. Not really.

And now to lay down and rest for an hour. Sigh.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow..