Wheels are in motion.

The warm and wonderful William “spuug” Graham is going to stop by soon, maybe tomorrow, to install my newly acquired 16 gigs of DDR3 memory.

This was sort of a silly purchase, because I am going to be buying a new CPU and motherboard in the new year with my Xmas money and savings, and that motherboard will probably take DDR4 memory, and I already have some of that due to an overenthusiastic errant purchase last year.

Why? Because I’m silly.

I am a silly, absentminded, imprudent, impulsive fool, and I am increasingly convinced that I should stop fighting it as a character flaw and start embracing it as a life strategy.

I’ve realized that I have been trying to force myself to fit on the Etruscan bed of my idea of “smart” for my entire life when I just might not be cut out to live that way.

Ergo, I would be better off embracing my wild surges of inspiration and enthusiasm and letting them sweep me along, even if they cause me to run straight into a brick wall.

Yeah that sucks, and one can only hope that one’s impulses will get smarter over time and learn to send you along less wall-prone paths, but by golly. I am ready to entertain the radical thought that it might just be more important to preserve and harness those powerful impulses rather than strangle them in their cribs in the name of being “smart”.

It’s a new theory but it’s gaining ground rapidly.

Every time I quash an impulse – and this happens almost constantly, I do almost everything more out of habit than desire – I am contributing to my lack of motivation by starving my poor belabored id of much needed reinforcement.

Turn them down for long enough and they will give in to despair. Who wouldn’t?

These are the kind of mistakes you have to be extremely intelligent to make. Only us smarty pants types have the beefy emotional override centers of the brain to completely ignore all our emotions and impulses in pursuit of greater facility with abstractions.

Great for school. Sucks for life.

In other news, they put me back on going to Wound Care twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, and so I had to go this morning.

And that was not easy, what with all my muscle soreness lately.

God damn, I hope that’s not permanent, because I am getting tired of all the moaning and whimpering I’ve been doing just from trying to get around.

So yeah. Doing Wound Care really sucked. And yet, when the nurse asked how I was doing, I told her my muscle were “a little sore”.

Why do I lie? Am I really that allergic to drawing attention to myself? Somebody should know that things are going poorly for me.

But I am too damned Avoidant to tell them about it.

No wonder I’m so fucked up. It’s like I’m drowning because I’m too meek to call for help.

Well, those people on the shore look busy. I don’t want to bother them.

More after the break.

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One kind of guilt I have

I feel bad for making my friends, who love me, watch my physical health fall apart.

I mean, it’s one thing to have our mental health issues destroying you. It’s quite another to having them hurt the ones you love.

And the root problem is definitely mental health. Avoidant Personality and all that. Makes me too wrapped up in my own little world of video games and watching stuff on the TVC with friends and napping to do what I need to do for my health.

At least Jardiance^[1] has my blood sugar under control now. My last a1C test, which tests long term blood sugar, was 7.3, and 7 is normal, so… good enough for me.

Guess I don’t need to worry about that for the time being, although I have been worried about it and felt personal guilt about it for so long that I am not sure I can even stop.

. If I can, it will take a while. That guilt train has a lot of momentum to kill.

But back to my loved ones. I know it must be seriously crazymaking to have a sweet, funny friend get sicker and sicker in front of your eyes, with you helpless to stop it.

The worst part is that the thing keeping THEM from doing everything they can about it is entirely invisible. It is a phantom of the mind, albeit a powerful one, and therefore it seems like I am neglecting myself to death out of sheer apathy.

And I am, kinda. But there’s a lot more to it than that.

What I really need is for a competent adult to take over top-level executive control of my life. Have them make the decisions and the adjustments and the plans. Have them learn about my blood glucose monitor and how it works then step me through it. Have them figure out how to get government assistance for my disabilities, so all I have to do is fill out and sign the forms. Have them make all my doctor’s appointment for me, so that I can’t just let them slide.

Ya know, typing it out like that, I realize that what I need most is someone to hold my hand and keep me calm so that I don’t freak out and give up on things.

Someone confident and competent and tough.

Like the one he is looking for in this song :

But a man. Obviously.

One who can be hard headed and practical and authoritative so that I can be soft and silly and just do what I am told.

That would be a heck of a job for some fella to take on. But I would repay them a million times over with all my love and understanding and compassion.

For the right man, I could be a happy little wifey.

But he’d have to be one heck of a guy.