Time for my obsessional confessional again.
I know I am absolutely failing my Taking Care of Myself course, and the penalties for flunking it are a lot worse than losing a scholarship.
And I want that to motivate me to do better, A hell of a LOT better. But the impulses to do that still can’t get through all my numb, dead scar tissue.
One might as well be trying to jump-start the heart of a mannequin. Or applying the defibrillator paddles to a half-frozen side of beef.
When I went to see Doctor Teal at the Stroke Prevention Clinic, as is customary at any new medical office, I had to fill out an intake survey.
Why in this day and age these people can’t just get together and keep a database of people’s answers and pull the info from THAT is beyond me.
I mean, how many offices need to separately verify that I have no known drug allergies?
Anyhow, on that form was an entry asking me which of the following vascular risk factors I had, and I had most of them,
Diabetes? Yup. Raging out of control and killing me softly with its glucose as we speak.
High blood pressure? Uh-huh. On two meds for it and it’s still a bit high. Gee, maybe I should stop putting so much salt on stuff. Naaaaaah.
Sleep apnea? You betcha. Also raging out of control. And completely untreated. My CPAP machine lies there once more gathering dusts because I tried to put on the new mask, couldn’t figure it out, got frustrated, and gave up forever without telling anyone or doing anything to try to fix the situation.
That’s so me.
Sedentary lifestyle? Oh hell yeah. The only people who get less exercise than me are bedridden and/or in a coma.
And that will be me soon enough if I don’t shape the fuck up.
And finally…. depression? Depression is a risk factor for stroke?
That’s so depressing!
But sure, why not, pile the fuck on. I’m worthless and pathetic anyhow so what goddamned difference does it make.
That there is the winning attitude that got me where I am today.
So like I have (more or less) said before, it’s basically a race to see if I can overcome my mental illness in time to treat my many, any physical illness before they kill me, or worse, leave me crippled and drooling with the IQ of refrigerator mold.
This latest incident (numb hand and face) has at least put some fear into me, and that fear has led to some action.
My head WAS in a CAT scanner on Friday, after all. (BTW, the cat says hi. )
But it’s nowhere near enough. I need to get my diabetes and sleep apnea under control ASAP or it’s the living grave of being bedridden and full of tubes for me.
Imagine being too sick to even play video games.
I would be seriously suicidal.
So if I want to save my current pathetic lifestyle, I am going to have to actually do stuff.
And that means overcoming the sick, septic part of me that wants to die, or at least get sick enough to have all responsibility for myself taken away from me.
And I try. And I try.
But it’s so damned hard,.
More after the break,
Power makes you a shark
As does size.
Been habitually pondering my relationship with my power advantage over others and my general unwillingness to use it.
I don’t want to be a giant, towering over others. My greatest wish is to live in simple harmony with everyone. Just me and the people, no superiority, no dominance, no walls between people, no unnecessary rules or restrictions, and no hate.
Just people living in peace, love, and harmony together, day by day, heartbreak by heartbreak, sharing life.
My god I’m such a hippie at heart.
But like…. a 70’s hippie. Victims of the post-60’s crash. People who have left behind the tie-dye and psychedelia in favour of just trying to really be there for each other, man.
A Burton Cummings hippie.
Anyhow, back to the point. Where was I?
Oh right. I don’t want to be a giant.
But I am, and denying it does me no good. No matter how I crouch, I still tower over others, and honestly I am not fooling anyone, not even myself.
And what really wears someone like me down is the constant restraint.
I have to be so careful not to hurt all the little people around me. I know that I could crush dozens with one wrong move. So I am always as careful as I can be,.
Hence the grumblings of my id, that wants me to say to hell with these pygmies and do whatever the fuck I want and if they know what’s good for them, they will stay out of my way or get steamrolled.
Or to put it another way :
Only I am also hyper-intelligent, extremely sensitive, highly charismatic, cute and lovable, and a really nice guy too.
It’s almost embarrassing.
I also could have added “massively talented” and “dangerously clever”, but I didn’t want to seem immodest.
Thing is, I know all this about myself and yet it’s still a struggle not to hate myself and attack myself with the fury of a wounded harpy.
I guess that proves that my self-loathing is not based on any kind of rational self-assessment. Rationally, I’m an amazing, one of a kind wonder worker.
So the self-loathing is merely anger inwardly expressed, and means absolutely nothing about what I am actually worth.
I’m worth a million in cash and prizes, baby.
I’ve just been stuck behind this logjam of the mind for a long long time.
I don’t want it.
I don’t deserve it.
And I don’t plan on putting up with it for very much longer.
Pretty soon I am going to come busting out of this stupid little cell.
I just have to convince more of my mind that we want that.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.