At least I think I’ve used that title before.

Anyhow, I was making my lunch in the kitchen just now when I realized I was in a fair bit of physical pain.

This is not unusual for me. My life involves a lot of pain. That is not news.

The novel part was that most of the pain was coming from my back, not my legs.

Specifically this area between my shoulder blades that has given me trouble before.For whatever reason, my back pain settles there some of the time.

The rest of the time it’s the lower back, but I am so used to that part of me hurting that if it stopped I think I’d faint from the sheer relief of it all.

But this other pain is new, and it has only occurred to me just now that it is one of those things that I should probably run past a medical professional at some point.

The thing is, I don’t have to. I have my muscle relaxant pills (cyclobenzaprine) and they have a pretty solid record when it comes to making my backpain go away.

They don’t always work. But almost always.

But it occurs to me that this pain may denote something going seriously wrong in my back, and that’s the kind of thing I should probably nip in the bud sooner, not later.

So I dunno. I guess I will make a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday.

Why do these things keep happening on long weekends? ^[1]

It’s like my body only really fucks up when it knows there will be someone around to drive me to the ER. ^[2]

Or maybe I am subconsciously picking up on the general party atmosphere of the weekend and that’s making my body want to gear up to have fun but I am a sickie and a recluse and terrified of the world so it just gets sick instead.

I have a lot of energies going nowhere within me. Recovery will therefore necessarily involve my finding someplace for them to go, and that, in turn, will end up creating a life for myself that is quite unlike my current malaise ridden existence, and that’s what I am afraid of at the core of it all.

The power of “changer danger” within me – the voice in me that tells me that life is trying to pry me from my nice cozy “safe” nest and I have to fight it with everything I’ve got – is still much stronger than my desire to make life better for myself.

So far, it’s been hard for me to counter that voice. The one that says we are better off not rocking the boat and staying exactly as we are right now because any real change will lead to total disaster.

You know. That asshole.

There’s a very strong element of the fear of the unknown in it. And that carries an undercurrent of that toxic belief that only that which I can control and/or predict is “safe”, ergo the unknown is inherently awful and wrong and can only lead to utter chaos.

This is nonsense, of course. But this is emotional reality we are dealing with here. Sense is by far not a requirement.

I keep coming back to conclusion that I need to learn to just ignore the fear when it comes for me. To listen to what it’s trying to tell me, but not let it stop me.

That would be a very wrenching transformation. Nothing would be the same after.

And that scares me back into inaction.

For now, at least.

More after the break.

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No way out

For whatever reason, I have an enormous phobia of being trapped.

Maybe it’s a side effect of having been trapped between “freeze” and “flight” modes for so very long.

For an animal in “flight” mode, safety lies in speed and maneuverability and unpredictability, and to be forced to stop moving – to be “trapped” – is the exact opposite of all three things and thus means a grisly death in the jaws of a predator.

For “freeze” though, things are different. When you freeze up, it’s because instead of fleeing the predator, now you’re hiding from it. In that mode, safety comes from immobility, concealment, and silence.

It’s not the total opposite of “flight” but it’s close.

From this you can safely deduce the existence of a “flight and freeze” pattern. If I expose myself to the big mean old world, it triggers a “flight” response which leads me to flee back into the “safety” and “comfort” of my hidey hole here in front of Mister Computer, where I “freeze”.

In my case, the pathology of this pattern has progressed to the point that no actual exposure to my “predators” is necessary. I only have to think about extending my tiny little worldlet by the merest of fractions and I run and hide with a vengeance.

They’ve got me whipped, that’s for sure.

And that’s not a tolerable situation. I don’t deserve to be stuck hiding from the world and whimpering because of a nigh all-encompassing fear of almost everything that has no basis in the world outside my mind at all.

Absolutely nobody is “coming to get me”.

My disguise is complete. I am flawlessly camouflaged. Almost nobody even knows I exist. And even fewer people actually care.

My “freeze” is very successful. I’ve pretty much got it mastered. I blend in so well that it’s difficult for me to “decloak” at all even if I want to.

Even if I really, really want to.

So once more I return to the idea of just learning to get the most out of my life as it is now. It would crush my spirit to give up like that but at least I would not be constantly spinning my wheels trying to get this bus moving when the fucking thing is up on blocks.

But I don’t seriously consider that an option. I have to keep trying, if only because I don’t know what to do with myself otherwise.

That’s what has kept me from true despair. I have that stubborn spark inside me that makes me restless inside and that restlessness makes true lassitude impossible.

Sure, I play video games all day and all night.

But at least I am doing something.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.