I am not out of jam.

I have about a tablespoon or so left.

But I might as well be out of jam because there is no way I am going to touch that last little bit of jam before I get more this Sunday.

Why? Because I hate running out of things. And as long as that tablespoon of jam is there, I have not, technically, run out of jam.

Even though, functionally speaking, I have.

But that’s not important. What’s important is that I don’t have to face that terrible moment when I use up the last of something and feel that pang of sadness and loss that comes with knowing I have none of it left and won’t have any till I can buy more.

Yeah that’s weird. Shut up.

It’s an example of something I learned about while reading up on hoarding : “oversensitivity to loss”. That’s what causes those negative feelings.

And that’s what causes us Taurus type people to be such careful users of resources. We want to put off that awful moment of running out for as long as we can.

In fact, ideally. we shepherd our resources so well that we get more of the resource before we even have a chance to run out.

It’s not hard to see how this can lead to hoarding. All it takes for this to cross into the realm of madness is for you to start dreading that loss so much that you start buying more of things before being anywhere near to running out of it.

“I’ll get it ‘just in case'”, you tell yourself. In case of what? Armageddon?

It’s never gone that far for me but that’s largely been because I can’t afford to stock up on things that far in advance.

But it’s also because I know that I could fall into that trap all too easily, so I ruthlessly monitor myself for signs of it taking root.

I’m crazy in enough ways already, thank you.

More after the break.

---

My own shadow

I’ve got to stop living in my shadow.

Sure, it makes me feel safe. Like nobody can penetrate my cloak of darkness and nobody can GET me.

Not that anyone even wants me. But tell that to the demons in my head.

Today was Therapy Thursday. I talked about how my only way out of this little coffin trap of a life is to learn to stand up to and endure my anxiety.

That’s the main enforcement mechanism for my depression. I am girt round with icy daggers of soul-rending anxiety and, not coincidentally, the thing it’s most interested in preventing is any kind of growth or healing that might threaten its grip on me.

Thus my depression has become an all-encompassing sarcophagus that keeps me almost completely isolated from life and reality and personal fulfillment.

So instead, I just play video games all day like I am back in the hospital killing time and waiting for the next test or meal or whatnot.

I definitely feel like I am waiting for something. But it’s like those bus stops they put up outside old folks’ homes so that if a patient wanders off, they’ll be easy to find because they will be at the ersatz bus stop waiting for a nonexistent bus.

Very sad, I know.

I am like one of those poor demented souls. Only instead of a bus stop, it’s more like a waiting room. Like I am waiting for someone to pop into the room and call my name.

But it’s not like I think that’s going to happen.

It’s just that waiting is all I know how to do.

My soul has so many missing parts it’s basically up on blocks.

So many of the things I was supposed to get out of my childhood never happened. Entire developmental stages were left to rot on the vine and poison my spirit.

And all because I never followed my instincts.

Like my late father used to say, I was (and am) so smart I’m stupid.

No wonder I have had such a hard time resurrecting myself so I can return to the land of the living and resume my long aborted life path.

I was barely alive in the first place.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.