Or at least, that is what it feels like I have right now.

Having one of my sleepy days, and you know what that means. I have spent the day asleep, I feel like utter crap right now, and I had lots of weird dreams.

Nothing worth writing down, though.

My head hurts like hell. The most likely culprit is my sinuses and attendant systems. I will make sure my nose is fully blown and my ears are clear of clogs. That usually does the trick, except in times of big air pressure changes in the weather, when all it does it make it slightly more tolerable.

My reality is such a messed up, unstable, unreliable places. No wonder I tend towards depression and tend to cling hard to the known constants of my life to the exclusion of other possibilities. I am just trying to cope with a reality in which my moods and my health and my mental state are constantly shifting the ground beneath my feet and I never know how I will feel or which door leads to pleasure and which to pain. So I become intensely psychologically conservative, just doing what I always do and blocking all thoughts of anything else, too scared of the world to leave my rusty cage, and run.

Of course, in real world logic, sometimes called “reality”, if I could pry my figners off my clinging post and deal with reality more often and more effectively, a lot of the instability would cease because I would both improve my physical health and give my psyche more input, and thus provide a psycho-sensual baseline for improved perspective on life.

Basically, I would be too busy actually living life and dealing with its challenges and rewards to dwell on inconsequential things and screw my life up with random napping and poor diet and so on.

Right now, I think a lot of my problems stem from the cavernous emptiness of my life, in wish small things cause enormous waves of terrifying echoes and the only peace comes from utter immobility.

And when I try to imagine picking myself up, dusting myself off, and starting, that enormous icy block of paralytic fear gets in the way. The drive shaft is not attached to the engine. The power is generated but it never makes it to the wheels. The linkages are broken, frozen, unable or unwilling to turn.

I am not sure how much of that is psychological scarring, and how much of that is defense mechanism to keep me from having to face the world and deal with what a fucking mess my life is.

And yes, I know the futility of ignoring life because it is too messed up to deal with when it is the very ignoring of reality that has let it get that bad. It is like not cleaning because everything is so messy. Well how did it get that way?

But knowing this does not immediately grant the strength to change it. That has to come from somewhere else, from recovery or fortune or some other extrinsic source of increased potency. Something has to act to shift that burden of ice inside me, to melt it down and let it flow to rejoin the sea, before I can regain enough of myself to make a difference in my life.

Until then, all I can do is make tiny bits of temporary progress in those rare moments when the tides and tornadoes inside me happen to collide in such a way that the eye of the storm passes over me, and I have the strength to pick up my rock and move it a little further along the path.

And I guess I should be content with that. It is not like this massive loathing of my own life is actually leading anywhere productive. Instead, it just fuels the chaos inside. If I could simply accept that I am a very sick person and hence I am not going to get all I want out of life right away, I would be far more content and a lot more likely to actually get better things in my life without the pain and chaos of self-hate and rage.

But again, know that would be the answer, or one answer at least, does not magically make it happen. I really do hate my stupid fucking life and I still cannot find a way to overcome the horror of an entire adult life wasted on depression and and sponging off others and not taking responsibility for my life and this making me an enormous loser.

I just cannot get over or around that fact. I try to forgive myself for it all, tell myself I have been very unfortunate in being a victim of mental illness for so long, and that I should not beat myself up for what I could not control, and that it is all in the past now and there is nothing I can do about it, all I can do is try to control the present to influence the future, and blah blah blah.

But here is the thing about wisdom. Knowing the smart, sensitive, wise, deep, true answer does not make the probklem go away. There is no Grand Teacher who puts a checkmark on your test, and praises you for how good an answer it is, and then you are free to move on to the next thing.

I am very good at knowing that wise and wonderful answer. But it does not fix anything by itself. There are some things no amount of intelligence, sensitivity, wit, intuition, and other mental magic can fix.

And it is these things, things for which no amount or kind of mental action with suffice, things for which even the question “So what do I do to fix it?” is meaningless because that too ask for a mental action, those things confound me.

If i cannot think my way out, then I am trapped.

There is no map for this maze.