First, the vid du jour :

Nothing staggeringly new in this one. I somehow thought I had a lot more to say along the “they didn’t vote for this” line, but once I started recording most of it fled from my mind and so I ended up repeating some of the stuff from earlier this week.

This is the problem with doing things directly on TikTok. I have been contemplating taking another stab at learning to do at the very least basic cut n’ paste video editing on my phone to get around this issue, or at least summoning the wherewithal to export the video to my PC and edit it there before putting it on YouTube.

But whatever. It’ll happen or it won’t. I won’t hold myself hostage to it.

On to the topic. The good news is that those flu-like symptoms I was experiencing never turned into an actual illness… for the most part.

But I noticed just a little while ago that I have been feeling more tired than usual lately. It’s getting harder and harder to motivate myself to do things. I’ve been spending a lot of time just sitting on the edge of my bed again, feeling kind of lost.

And getting myself moving feels like it’s taking twice the usual amount of effort. And once I am moving, it feels like that is taking more energy than usual too.

I have been getting that “rusty” feeling lately. Like every move I make requires overcoming a stiff resistance that was not there before.

So it could be some kind of bug. One that forgot to take the muscle stiffness of the flu with it when it left.

How very inconsiderate.

Or it could be something else causing a systemic inflammatory response. Those have definitely been known to cause that “rusty” feeling.

Or it could just be a symptom of being really fuckin’ old. Can’t ever rule that out.

But a more specific diagnosis is generally desirable.

Or it could be psychological. Maybe something is going on deep in my subconscious mind that is draining my motivation and making me want to turn away from reality and hide from it all and not have to deal with things even more than usual.

If so, I can accept that. I know that I am definitely operating on some very deep layers of my mind these days and surgery of that sort is bound to cause some disruption, kind of like how you can’t have roads without them needing to be closed sometimes.

In a way, I would greatly prefer that this was all a symptom of my attempts to shift my attitude and repair the deep down damage of all the corrosive isolation I have endured.

Most of it seemingly by choice but actually as a result of being driven to isolate myself most of the time by my pervasive anxiety.

It’s only when I am alone that I come close to feeling safe.

I’m working on it.

And I mean, even when I am here by myself in my filthy bedroom, sitting at this computer. I am still caged in by anxiety.

That’s why it’s so hard for me to do anything of the job type things I “should” be doing like getting back on UpWork or something similar.

Even something as seemingly benign and harmless and simple as that increases my social stimulation level and triggers an anxiety response.

And I am so damned sick of that bullshit.

Anxiety is my jailer and my tormentor. It keeps me living this pathetic routine existence where I live the same sad day over and over and have little to no adult dignity or self-respect at all when by all rights I should be living like a king off of all the money I make with my outlandish amounts of genius and talent.

And I can bitch and moan till the cows come home about all I “should” have by dint of my overwhelming and magical specialness, but I am never going to have it unless I can get the fuck over myself and go out there and get it.

At least there’s always Xanax.

More after the break.

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What I tell myself

Then again, getting all tough and butch with myself like that doesn’t seem to help. In fact, it probably does more harm than good by increasing the very pressure that I withdraw into myself to escape.

Why do I have to be so god damned complicated?

So anyhow, while it feels good to vent my frustrations with my life and my clogged state of being on myself in some vain attempt to jump-start my life, it is probably ultimately counterproductive and just another way for me to vent internally.

Instead of figuring out some safe way to externalize or harness the anger so that I can be nice to myself and give myself a break.

Which brings me to the realization that I might not hate myself any more but I am still not very nice to myself. And I think that means that I have a very long way to go before I can manage to forgive myself for how I am.

I am not sure if that means I haven’t really stopped hating myself or not.

I certainly get angry with myself fairly often, and that’s probably not good.

That’s probably internalized abuse. Or something just as bad. But I just get so sick of putting up with my own bullshit sometimes.

Not that getting mad at myself helps, of course.

And round and round and around we go.

Wow, I had no idea what a bunch of dorks those guys were.

But I know that every whirling wheel, no matter how fast it’s going, has an angle of centripetal escape that you can find if you sit still and watch for a while.

And if all else fails, just crash the motherfucking thing.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.