Damn being an empath can be tough.
Like I like to say, sensitivity ain’t for wimps.
I have no idea what went down, but earlier I was minding my own business, playing my game (Pathfinder : Wrath of the Righteous), when suddenly I heard Joe yelling angrily so loudly that I could hear it real well even though the door to the bedroom was closed.
Not well enough to make out what he was saying, but that is probably for the best. If I’d known what he was saying, I might have felt compelled to intervene and probably made things a whole lot worse.
Especially for myself.
This event has freaked me out and the aftereffects linger on even though it happened a couple of hours ago and I have had a nap since then.
I can feel it in my chest, too. A bit worried about that.
To say that this is not typical behaviour for Joe is a vast understatement. But I am sure a clue can be found in that today being the Canada Day (observed) stat holiday, Joe’s father and sister Melanie were scheduled to come over and help Joe and Julian with their ongoing de-cluttering project.
Joe being somewhat of a packrat, it’s taking a while.
And seeing as nobody can push your buttons like your parents (after all, they installed them), I can guess what probably happened.
I certainly knew better than to ask my late father for “help” with anything. His constant impatience, crankiness, and volatility guaranteed that it would not be worth it and I would have been far better off doing it myself.
It’s not a coincidence you died alone. Dad. You were impossible.
UPDATE : Just had a chat with Joe. So far I still don’t know what exactly set him off, and I will have to ask eventually because I need closure, but we have touched base on his Dad pissing him off solid.
Plus a surprise : a new (to me) computer chair! They came across an old office chair Joe used to use while de-cluttering and it looked more comfortable than the one I was using so they thought they would let me give it a try.
So I am giving it a test drive as we speak. It’s definitely better padded than my previous chair but only sitting in it for a long time can indicate if it’s an ergonomic fit.
Thus far it feels…. weird. But that is to be expected. My previous chair and I had a long time to adjust to one another.
This one isn’t even shaped like my butt yet!
I will actively resist the childish urge to immediately reject it in favour of going back to the tried and true previous model because it isn’t immediately perfect.
Neither was the previous model. Although in that case, going back wasn’t an option because that computer chair was toast.
This time the previous one is fine. So I at least have a fallback position.
Into a reasonably comfy chair.
More after the break.
Into the sunset
Feeling really sleepy despite a normal amount of sleep today again,
Of course, my “normal” amount of sleep is most people’s “shitty, fragmented, and shallow” sleep, so there’s that.
I am back to being able to sleep for one and a half hours tops before either my bladder wakes me up or I just find myself kicked out of the Land of Nod for no reason.
But it is probably sleep apnea related.
And yeah, I know that my sleep is terrible. Very unhealthy. I don’t get nearly enough deep REM Stage 4 sleep and therefore my body stays tired and my mind remains burdened with millions of half-processed medium term memories clogging up its pipes and making it hard for me to regulate mood at all.
And part of me says, “Wow, you can regulate those things?”.
Quick, call up the offices of my local member of emotional parliament! I have a long list of new mood regulations I want introduced next time personality legislature is in session! Time to make that lazy bum actually do his job for a change!
I love how weird I am.
Oh well,. just add sleeping to the long list of remarkably basic things I can’t do right, along with other long serving items like “clean anything” and “focus on a goal” and “stay away from video games while awake”.
In the world of depression and anxiety, it will always be your crutches that kill you. Whether it’s liquor or drugs or gambling or risky sex or even video games, whatever you use to stimulate the reward center of the brain enough to not kill yourself yet will be the grave they lay you down in because your relationship with it will be as unhealthy as you are and become your tomb.
That got dark real quick.
Because every depressive is an addict. Anhedonia (that bitch) leaves you so starved for reward that whatever can penetrate the numbness will be fixated upon with fanatic intensity and anything that threatens that dependency will be treated by the deep brain as a threat to survival like it’s cutting off your air.
Even when it is actually doing the opposite : making it more likely you’ll live.
Because merely knowing that something will help you in the long or even medium term is laughably weak compared to the dark power of addiction.
It’s like trying to stop a freight train by stretching a rubber band across the tracks.
I know all the things I “should” do to improve my health and ultimately my mood.
But “should” doesn’t mean a god damned thing if it doesn’t come with the motivation to do the god damned thing.
The first and often overlooked step is to care about yourself.
If you don’t have that, then all the “shoulds” in the world won’t mean a god damned thing and you will find yourself ignoring and/or suppressing them because they can only cause you pain and fear if you think about them.
Knowing you “should”, but can’t, is hell. Take it from me.
When I think about my “should” list, it honestly feels purely theoretical. Like someone’s opinion on what the coach of their favorite sports team “should” do.
Except that sports opinions are more likely to influence the outcome.
And all I can do is shrug and say, “Yeah, probably. ” and then go back to drinking my beer in silence.
I am such a Norm.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.