It’s clear to me that my energies are surging beyond what my current extremely low strain lifestyle can contain.
And as my Paxil dose decreases, that’s only going to get worse. So if I want to keep the anxiety at bay, I need to open up my life and my soul to the possibility of doing a lot more with my time than just sitting around playing fucking video games.
And that means I have to break the autohypnotic spell I live under and truly wake the fuck up, and be emotionally present in realtime, and truly commit to really living in the world instead of constantly trying to live entirely in the world between my ears.
And of course, that all scares the fertilizer out of me. Obviously. I survived being raped as a toddler by putting a very large part of me to sleep and waking that part of me up so that I can be whole means facing the reality of that terrible event not simply as a fact but as a memory and that scares me more than nearly anything else.
My whole psyche is built around keeping that atrocity suppressed. It’s like my entire massive maniacal mind is one giant containment unit and everything else in my mind is just a sideline to the massive machinery required to keep me from remembering it.
It’s not just a matter of tagging the memory “do not open” and it’s certainly not something I can simply erase from my mind by force of will.
By suppressing it so hard and for so long, I have in effect preserved the horror of it all in ultra HD, uncompressed and lossless, and when I release that beast, it’s going to be very angry at having been kept in the dark and the cold for so very long.
Memories want to be processed. Our minds never stop trying to digest them. And simply knowing something happened is not nearly enough.
That’s just knowledge. Occasionally useful but it does nothing to handle the emotions involved and those are what are holding me back and clogging me up and keeping me from doing more with my life.
A wild return to the topic appears!
It’s like there is this giant block of ice sitting in the only path out of this nasty little cul de sac of mine and in theory “all I have to do is get it out of the way”, but of course, it is not nearly that simple, at least not yet.
Because that block of ice is the very thing I have been hiding behind all these years. It’s no cartoon villain, it’s a vital part of how my mind is structured and if I yanked it out of there just because it seems bad, the whole damn thing could come crashing down.
And I’d end up being nothing but a drooling goober in a back ward somewhere.
Although I dunno. Maybe that’s just the mental illness creating catastrophic visions of the future in order to keep me from threatening it.
I don’t fucking know.
I know I’m sick of it. Sick of the fear and the anxiety and feeling hunted all the time. Sick of not being a functional human being. Sick of being massively underdeveloped on nearly every single psychological level and that making it nearly impossible for me to cope with any of the realities of adulthood. Sick of being an emotionally stunted loser sitting on a massive hoard of intellectual riches that I can’t spend to get myself places in life because my spirit is just too god damned weak to support it. Tired of drifting from shadow to shadow in life without making any kind of mark on the world.
I could disappear with nary a ripple at any moment. A few people would miss me and be sad that I am gone but the world at large wouldn’t even know I was gone.
Because everything is stupid and nothing matters.
More after the break.
No sudden moves
I don’t like the fact that I don’t handle sudden changes or other surprises very well.
It makes me feel weak and fragile and vulnerable to the whims of fate. I would rather be a more rugged specimen that can handle whatever life throws at me, like some kind of tough all terrain vehicle.
Then again, I’d be a hell of a lot tougher if I had gotten actual life experience instead of hiding from the world for the last 30+ years.
But I didn’t get that life experience because I was too fragile to leave my comfort zone in order to go get it.
And the wheel goes around and around and around.
As far as things go right now, I don’t see my life changing very much very soon. I’m gonna be stuck on this god damned treadmill until something forces me off it and the only thing that is going to do that is my health getting worse.
Or better, I suppose. Perhaps if I was healthier I would feel more robust and capable and confident and then I would naturally end up taking on that big old world out there.
Or maybe nothing would change except that I’d feel a hell of a lot better. Which would also be good.
There’s definitely still something wrong with me physically. Something subtle that makes it really hard for me to pull myself together and focus, let alone actually engage my drives and let them take me anywhere.
Something that leaves me feeling weak and tired and fragile most of the time. A feeling which makes me feel like I have no choice but to hunker in my bunker and live in emergency mode even though everything seems to be fine.
At the moment at least, it doesn’t feel like it could be something purely psychological, thought I don’t know that I could explain why.
But I worry whether my heart is doing OK. I haven’t seen my cardiologist in years. I don’t even remember her name.
Could my problem really be that this body of mine has a gutless engine and THAT is why I can’t get it up to speed?
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants? I thought it was a lack of moral character when it was a hardware issue all along.
One they can fix, hopefully.
It’s sad when having a heart defect would be the happy outcome.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.