I feel like I have, in previous blog entries, built my rhetorical ship up to the point where I can ram into a big revelation like this one :

I am not a failure.

Or a loser. Or incompetent.

I have, in fact, done extremely well given my circumstances, and I should be proud of the fact that I have made it this far with as many of my marbles intact as I have.

I have done extremely well.

This might not seem like that big of a revelation to you, my faithful and devastatingly attractive reader, because you likely never though of me as a failure in the first place.

Or at the very least, not a culpable one.

But from where I am sitting, this is huge. I have thought of myself as a total failure for my entire life and the notion that I am not one shakes the very foundation of my being and calls into question my entire sense of self.

I even felt like I was a failure while getting stellar marks in school.

I took that shit for granted because it had always been absurdly easy for me. And socially I was clearly a failure because nobody liked me OR loved me.

Even my teachers could barely stand me.

But those people were all wrong to treat me that way. I was not a failure then and I am not a failure now.

I am someone who has successfully navigated the perilous dark waters of suicidal depression and come out the other side with a very good chance at recovery.

All I have to do is keep challenging my assumptions like I am doing right now and doing my level best to get my leftover emotions out through writing et al, and take care of my physical health to the best of my ability, I will make it out of this storm and finally get to experience a glorious dawn shattering the shackles of the night.

Just as soon as I am ready for it.

Or possibly slightly before.

But yes. I am not a loser. I am not a failure. I am not broken. I am not a mistake. I am not unsuited for survival. I am not a shameful and disgusting thing.

I am not toxic. I am not radioactive. I am not poisonous. I am not a blight on all who know me. People do not wish I would just go away and die somewhere so that they wouldn’t have to pretend to like me out of pity any more.

I have no reason to apologize just for being alive and taking up space and resources. I have just as much right to exist as anyone else. And the fact that I was treated otherwise for so long is a tragedy and a crime.

In short, I am a perfectly wonderful and amazing person with nothing to be ashamed of and every possible reason to love the heck out of myself, amen.

There. That should be enough affirmation for now.

Any more, and I might pass out!

More after the break.

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So much adventure

I am beginning to really question the parameters of my life.

But first, a story :

When ordering my groceries last week and perusing the microwavable convenience foods, I was delighted to find that Real Canadian Superstore has those individual microwavable pot pies from Swanson that I love so much.

So I ordered some last Friday.

But for one reason or another. I did not get around to actually making one until Monday night, which is tonight.

And that…. was not fun.

You would think that something that only requires being microwaved for five minutes to be as easy as…. well, pie.

And that’s true but only if your legs work. Mine don’t, and that means that there is a limit to how long I can remain standing even with the walker.

Turns out that limit is a lot less than five minutes.

So despite the fact that putting my pot pie in the microwave was the very first thing I did when I got to the kitchen and I then did everything else I had to do, I was still stuck with around 3 minutes of staring at the microwave timer as it counted down.

And that starting to really hurt starting around T minus two minutes.

So those ended up being some pretty long minutes, subjectively speaking. Yay, another everyday adventure for Gimp Boy.

That’s when the thoughts about the parameters of my life came in because I am getting really sick of dealing with my absurd limitations all the time.

Like not being able to stand for three minutes without intense pain in my legs. Just to pick a random example.

That would be far less of a problem if I could have somewhere to sit in the kitchen. But our kitchen is pretty dang small and so I would need to find some sort of very sturdy collapsible, portable stool to go in there when I need it and to fit somewhere out of the way when I do not.

This is not impossible.

But the real way to get around these problems would be to do the one thing I really don’t want to do, and that is ask for more help.

Joe and Julian already do a lot for me. I would hate to ask for more. I already feel like I am a burden to people, though I know they do not necessarily mind.

And I prefer to do things myself. I’ve always had to do that in my life and it has become my preferred mode of being.

But that doesn’t mean I can live that way. So I have to choose between simply doing without anything I can’t do for myself, or asking for more help.

I don’t like either of those options.

Normally I would simply do without. Oh well, guess these pot pies are something I just can’t have any more.

And who knows. Maybe walker-ing to the living room to sit down and wait for the microwave to beep then walker-ing back would, despite appearances, be a net gain.

But I don’t want to have to live that kind of life.

I want more, god dammit, and that means I need to ask for more.

And I don’t wanna.

But I am going to have to. And soon.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.