In a dark and brooding mood right now. Dunno why.

Probably just my ever-fluctuating brain chemicals. Or maybe I am coming down with some kind of bug, who knows.

But right now I have a mild headache, my joints are aching, I’m a little dizzy because I just sat down, and overall I am just feeling crummy.

I really should invest in some genetic Tylenol for situations like this. A mild analgesic seems like the perfect thing for my current condition.

And, like I’ve said, I should go back on antihistamines. That would probably help with a whole variety of symptoms given the nature of a histamine response.

Oh well. I’ll taken a Naproxen, that should help, at least with the joint pain.

Today’s not been much so far. Spent a lot of it asleep or just drowsing in bed letting my thoughts do whatever they need to do.

I guess I’ve been feeling bummed out all day, now that I think about it. I must have hit another iceberg of emotion that needs thawing as part of my healing process and that is going to burden my emotional regulation circuits for a while.

And they’re not that robust to begin with.

There are times when the sheer scope of my therapeutic task makes it seem insurmountable. My development has been so damaged and deficient that it’s occurred to me that a normal life might just be out of reach for me.

Certainly the sun has set on any chance I had at traditional employment.

But I’ve known traditional employment was probably not for me for a long time. There’s no way I could survive submitting resumes and doing job interviews, even if it was all online. Not when I know that, objectively, they’d be crazy to hire me.

I mean, I know I would be an amazing employee, but from their point of view, I’m a 51 year old mental patient with no job history to speak of.

Why take a chance on that?

So I would need some kind service like the March of Dimes to open doors for me, I think. They have special relationships with certain kind and understanding employers willing to take a risk on someone like me.

Eh, but fuck it. I’d rather get back into freelancing.

Which would be a pain in the ass because not only do I have to jump through a lot of annoying hoops to return to active status on UpWork, I would also have to have a smartphone which I currently do not.

I know, I know, it’s time I get with the millennium. And it doesn’t have to be an expensive proposition, I could just get a pay as you go phone and it would be a lot cheaper than a monthly plan because I would hardly ever use it.

Don’t know that I want to have the temptation to play games in bed again, though. I would have to put it somewhere where it’s not easy to get to when I want to lay down for a little while.

Being me is complicated sometimes.

I would honestly be better off with a flip phone. Except that would be useless for the main thing I want a cell phone for, which is to be able to do things requiring a smartphone, like using various business’ apps.

Or signing back in to UpWork for fuck’s sake.

There must be other freelancing sites out there, maybe even one that makes allowances for phoneless freaks like myself.

I’ve slept so much better since my tablet died. I don’t want to go back to bouncing between playing games on my PC and playing games on my tablet.

And a lot of those tablet games were just manipulative time sinks anyhow.

Maybe I need a smartphone, but a really shitty one that can support a web browser and some really basic apps and that’s it.

Or maybe I just need to develop more self-discipline.

Nah. Technology is easier.

More after the break.

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To just be

I need to become sufficient unto myself.

This cancerous continuous crisis mode has to go. It causes so much internal stress and avoidance. I would be a much happier and healthier man if I could just… relax.

Which would mean overcoming my old enemy, the anti-action bias.

I’m still in the grips of the depressive delusion that I have an incredibly limited supply of energy and therefore must invest it very, very carefully or tragedy will ensue.

And I am all for the prudent deployment of limited resources, but it too can metastasize into something toxic and compulsive where what started off as cautious investment instead become emotional constipation and reflexive self-denial, or worse.

I’m not preserving my energies, I am letting them rot on the vine. They are going to waste. It’s a use it or lose it situation and I am definitely losing it.

But it’s worse than that because not using it has more consequences that mere wastage. It leads to all kinds of frustration, anxiety, and neurosis from all those energies having nowhere to go but inward.

In order to just be, I must just do.

And deep down I know this. I’ve been saying that I need to do more in order to be happy in this space for decades now. But nothing ever changes.

That characteristic compulsion to hoard my energies (as if that’s even possible) still makes me very lazy.

Perhaps the real issue is reward. The anhedonia of depression makes you think that nothing you do except for the very high reward activities to which you are addicted can possibly be worth doing in terms of how rewarding you will find it.

Needing to expend a certain amount of your energies in order to be happy does not compute in such a stark equation, where everything is about trying to get the most reward from every tiny erg of expended effort.

From that benighted perspective, spending any energy without a HUGE return in reward is like pouring money down the drain.

I’d be better off if I took a page from the book of higher energy types and looked at my energies as a curse that I have to work hard to dispel before I can have any peace.

Or, if that’s too harsh, just see them as opportunities to have more fun.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.