So, the opposite of this :
Man, they’re an amazing band.
Anyhoo, the good news is that my legs are back to their usual level of weakness and dysfunction after last night’s little tumble.
No, brain, I will NOT put in a link to “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya” by Culture Cl;ub.
I guess I was right when I said that my legs were just angry with me for the fall. I have had other incidents where they were temporarily a lot weaker after a spill and no more came of it than being a tad wobbly for a bit.
Well, wobblier than usual, anyhow.
Still, I’ve got to be more careful. A serious fall could really fuck me up, and it would be even worse if there was nobody else home.
I need one of these :
Don’t laugh, falling and not being able to get up is a real possibility for me.
And I know I don’t take such things seriously enough.
To be honest, I’m not sure I can.
I am utterly lacking in the maturity to be able to contemplate and deal with scary and unpleasant things without getting freaked out by them.
And my default program says, “above all us, minimize anxiety” and the only way to do that is to ignore most of the serious shit I really should deal with in a mature adult way.
But I am not a mature adult. In terms of my emotional development, I have barely made it into puberty. I have had precious little life experience and as a result, while I am intellectually parsecs ahead of most of the human race, even the lowliest of mentally handicapped Burger King workers is way better at life than I am and more mature too.
I put way too many character points into Intelligence and ended up with less than nothing in all my other stats.
In my defense, I had no idea what I was doing. There was a path before me and I took it because it seemed to lead to ever more fascinating places.
And it did. But fascination is nowhere near enough to live on. And it’s such a chilly emotion to boot.
Like I keep saying, it’s all light with no heat. A purely intellectual thrill and humanity cannot live by the intellect alone.
But everything else scares me.
I only feel safe (and confident) in the world of the mind.
In fact, I stride through that land like a giant, afraid of nothing. powerful and complete.
But the rest of me is feeble and weak and underdeveloped. Like I am some big brained aliens with feeble little wimpy bodies from heavy-handed 60’s science fiction.
There is so much more to me, though. I just have to find it and access it and accept it into my fundamental conception of self.
I’m warm and kind and funny and charming and sweet and a truly unique person unlike anyone you’ve ever met before, or since.
And I know I could perform miracles if I could just escape my own shadow.
But it’s so bright and loud out there…
More after the break.
It’s too late
As in, it’ freaking 11:15 pm.
Talk about a late supper! I never should have laid down in the first place.
But how was I to know when I laid down at 7 pm that I would sleep for four fricking hours? I never sleep for that long.
Not that that is a good thing. It is what it is.
And now I am dealing with the whole “going to sleep when it’s light and waking when it’s dark” confusion and that’s no fun.
My circadians are all over the frigging place right now.
But what the fuck. I am at 640 words and it’s 11:25 PM. That means I have 35 minutes to write 360 words.
Not a problem. No sweat.
I’ve been pondering ways to re-frame my life in a more positively. I know that my internal narrative of pain, misery, futility, and aburdity is toxic and I know that it actively poisons my recovery.
But it also expresses how I feel. And it feels good to vent my negatives in this space. I always feel better once I have gotten my badness out.
But when does that stop being healthy catharsis and start being wallowing in your own misery and making things worse?
So anyhow, on to the positivity.
My life isn’t that bad. I am comfortable and safe and I have the best roomies ever. I have my computer and my video games and my blog.
It might not be what would traditionally be called productive, but I manage.
And I don’t spend ALL my time playing video games. There is napping and reading comics online and blogging and masturbation.
And of course, there is my internal development, which is extensive.
It was not a coincidence that I became this smart and talented in isolation. In a weird way, my screen based life is like monastic seclusion.
The only difference is that instead of contemplating God, I slay imaginary orcs.
My time has not been wasted over all these years of illness. That’s all I am trying to say. I may not have had anything like a normal life but my cloistered life has led to my becoming the unusually brilliant and unique person I am today.
Because in my own way, I am beautiful. I am a strange and delicate creature, capable of infinite wonders but fragile as a butterfly’s wing.
I might not be like other people but that’s not a bad thing. I have trod the path laid out for me by fate to the best of my ability and I think I have played my admittedly crappy hand of cards rather well.
After all, I have survived mental illness for almost 30 years, and that’s amazing.
And I did it all without suicide attempts, hospitalizations, or drama.
And I think that’s pretty darn good.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.