New record : “lunch” at 7 pm.
I give up. I clearly can’t get this shit under control. My meals will be randomly spaced from now on and to hell with the consequences to my health and wellbeing.
And the thing is,. I know that my harsh self-judgment in this area is only making the problem worse. It turns eating a meal into the exact kind of high stakes pressure event that I instinctively dodge or delay, coward that I am.
But no. I don’t have to be like that. It’s how I have BEEN but it is not who I AM.
I can always choose to be better. Nothing is set in stone. I choose who I want to be, day after day, and it’s never too late to choose better.
I will overcome all my bullshit. This I swear.
I’m just feeling crappy because I just got back from making some food in the kitchen and it took so much out of me and hurt so bad it’s freaking me out.
All I did was go to the kitchen, put some peanut butter on some Triscuits, grab a piece of fruit and a can of pop, and come back, and yet I feel like I’ve taken a beating.
And it’s not going to get any better. I had my phone call with Doctor Chao yesterday and instead of dealing with my very real issue of neuromuscular degeneration, we got totally sidetracked by my request for more Clopidigrel and by the time I managed to drag him back to the point, the call was over and he just fed me some hasty bullshit and then it was all over.
I have an in–person office appointment a week from today, on the 10th. Hopefully I will be able to keep him on fucking target this time because the fact that my muscles just get weaker and weaker every time I get one of these flu-like attacks is kind of a great big deal more important to me than a fucking pill.
I don’t want to end up in a bed fulla tubes.
I honestly would rather die. SO either they keep me under heavy sedation for the whole time I got a tube down my throat, or I will elect to choke on my own vomit and die.
Harsh, but true. Suffocation and things associated with it is my all time worst fear, no doubt due to my sleep apnea, and major phobias are nothing to sneeze at.
You know what is? Pollen. You can totally sneeze at pollen.
And this is definitely not the sort of thing where my powers of reason will be any help at all. Make all the logical arguments for why the tube is a good thing you want, I will be too busy trying to pull the thing out to listen.
It’s the same with oxygen masks. Yes, I know that I am, if anything, getting better air through that thing than I do in normal life, but if it covers my mouth and nose, I am going to be ripping it off the minute I can.
Some things even my considerable powers of logic and restraint can’t cope with.
More after the break.
But then again….
But then again, fuck logic and restraint.
I have lived in a cage of pseudo logic based on flawed assumptions and corrupted by my diseased ego and superego for far too long.
That’s why one of the healthiest things I do in this head of mine is scream “SHUT UP!” to all the nattering negative nagging in my head and then thump those voices into silence with a club made of pure primal rage.
That’ll show them. Sometimes, when the smart part of you is raging out of control and all your higher faculties have been hijacked by your inner demons and they are taking you through a joy ride through Hell, the only thing that can save you is your pure untainted primal id coming to kick ass like the world’s butchest gym teacher.
In fact, I am developing a voice in my head I am tentatively calling Coach and he’s the voice of that other kind of wisdom, the kind that jocks and other active types know but don’t have the ability to articulate.
Things like “get right back on that horse. ” Why? So that you don’t have a chance to become afraid to do so. So that the memory of falling is immediately overwritten by one of doing it right… even if you have to fall a few more times to get there. So that you come away from the experience feeling confident because you overcame difficulty and gained confidence and a brand new skill.
They know and understand that kind of thing. But they can’t explain it to you.
They are also right when they say you should toughen up. Not because you have to meet some minimum level of male performance before you are acceptable, but because being tougher makes life a lot easier.
It’s like having work gloves on. Sure, that makes your hands a lot less sensitive. That’s the point. But having those gloves on lets you handle things and do things you could never do with just your bare hands.
I truly wish I had toughened up at some point in my life. Preferably early. That’s why if I could send a message back in time to a younger self, the first thing I would think to say would be “Toughen the fuck up! Life sucks when you’re a wimp! Change that!”.
I wouldn’t send that message because I know my younger self would not be receptive to that message at all.
But it;s true nevertheless. Trying to toughen up at this point in my life, when my body is falling apart, is so damned hard. I have decades of wimpy instincts to overcome.
That’s why it’s good fgor me to tao into my anger. Anger and spite can do wonders for motivation where logic and understanding of the future fail outright.
Now I am going to very boldly and courageously lie down for a nap.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.