I’m still trying to figure out how to balance all of this.
Today was Therapy Thursday, and as part of today’s session, I vented a lot of my fears, frustrations, doubts, despair, and so on to Doctor Costin.
And as a result, I actually felt a lot better afterwards.
This is not new. In fact, the “innovation” that I feel a hell of a lot better if I get all the nasty negatives out of my system has surfaced so many times in this space that at this point it’s practically its own genre.
The tricky bit is figuring out what to do with this information.
The long term goal is fairly clear : integrating my emotions well enough into my personality that the negatives don’t build up to the point of needing me to vent them at high pressure now and then any more.
A lofty and noble goal, to be sure, but the devil’s in the details.
I haven’t the foggiest idea where to start that process. I am getting better at letting my anger rise to the surface of my mind and be felt, but I don’t know how to do with same with things like my depression, anxiety, hopelessness, and so on.
I guess part of the problem is that these are emotions I don’t like to admit to having, even to myself.
What is worse, at least in a surface sense, these are the very emotions I am trying to fight in order to free myself from my chronic depression in the first place.
Perhaps that’s entirely the wrong approach, though. Perhaps I need to embrace all of y emotions and worry more about handling the negative cognitive processes.
After all, on another level and in another way, I have been trying to unlearn a lifetime of emotional suppression by learning to embrace my emotions and feel them to their fullest, warts and all.
And that goes double for the really dark and warty emotions like despair, self-loathing, dread, and the desire to self-harm.
But as usual, I’m scared. I don’t want to fall down the deep dark hole of depression. I want to stay in the light until I get used to it.
I don’t know how to be a dark person.
Dramatic, maybe. Poetic, definitely. Maybe even kind of emo.
But dark? Me? The cute little floof of a fox? All funny and silly and sensitive and sweet? That lovely and lovable fellow?
Surely, if I got dark (or at least darker), nobody would want anything to do with me any more. I mean, why would they?
I am only as worthwhile as I am fun to be around, right? If I let the dark stuff show, my magic spell will be broken and people will realize what a nightmare I really am.
My charisma and charm can only mesmerize people so much, ya know.
Don’t worry. I know how wrong all that is. I know that’s not how the world sees me at all, and I know all about imposter syndrome and feeling like you have people fooled.
Doesn’t make me immune to it, though. I know that on some level, I would rather think I have everyone fooled than accept that there is something genuinely wonderful and good about me that other people can see.
But why? What de fuck is up with that? Perhaps it’s a simple matter of identity stability. I have thought of myself as something truly awful for so long that accepting that I might actually be something good would be too much of a change.
But I feel like there’s something more going on there. Fear of hope, perhaps. Or maybe a loss of detached cynicism and the feeling of master and control it gives.
After all, if I accept the praise, I risk losing it again in the future, don’t I?
Better to stay in safe and cozy self-loathing.
More after the break.
Yo gaba gaba
Gabapentin, to be precise.
You see, I haven’t had any in a couple of days, and my pain is getting worse. But it’s my own fault that I ran out and could not get more.
See, I did a dumb. I switched from taking 200 mg of Gabapentin once a day to taking it twice a day without telling anyone.
And there’s people who really should have been told. Like my pharmacist Simon and my GP Doctor Chao, for instance.
Because I never told them, they never changed what it says in their files so according to the province’s records, I should not be out of Gabapentin yet.
In fact, I should have around a month left. Oops.
Because of this very “me” mistake, when I called my pharmacy on Tuesday, the pharmacist was unable to give me an emergency supply to last me until I saw my GP next Monday. It is just way too early. The province would have pitched a fit.
They would probably have thought I was selling my meds on the black market. Not that I imagine there’s a big secondary market for Gabapentin. It’s not exactly a party drug.
I’d probably get a lot more money for my Ozempic.
Besides, it’s not like I would know how to find the black market. I don’t even known where to find an off-white market.
Really run down malls in bad neighborhoods?
Anyhow, luckily, I was able to get a phone appointment to talk with Doc Chao tomorrow and, god willin’ and the crick don’t rise. we will be able to sort this whole thing out.
And not a moment too soon, because my pain is getting pretty bad. Luckily it is remaining at a background level when I am lying down, and it’s not too bad when I am sitting here at Mister Computer, but standing and moving around really hurts.
I have a backup plan, though. If Chao is all, “Nothing I can do, my hands are tied” and so on, I will simply pivot and ask him to give me a prescription for just enough of something else with a similar effect to last me till I once more align with the government’s expectations of my usage level.
At least I have Aleve. It helps a little.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.