First off, sorry, no Friday Science Roundup this week. My browser did an oops and lost all the science links (and other links) that I had been saving up to share with you. So I have nothing to work on, and I am afraid we will just have to endure yet another day of me babbling at you about my life (so called) and all the crappy things which happen in it.

Patient and attentive readers will recall that yesterday, I talked of a certain bathroom disaster. Toilet overflowing, carpets soaked with foul liquid, and so on.

And that had me all freaked out and panicking and hating myself while Joe was dealing with my mess for me, and activating all kinds of fucked up Freudian shit about me feeling like I am nothing but a foul, horrible, pathetic, diseased joke that does nothing but befoul everything he touches and make life worse for the people he cares about, and they would all be better off without me.

That stuff is always there in me, but when one of my bowel movements causes filthy contaminated water to leak out all over the place… it is a perfect real-world nightmare and a feast for my demons.

But I bounced backed OK, or so I thought. When I wrote my blog entry yesterday, I was feeling relatively better about it.

But then, this morning, there came a knock on the door. It was a man who lives in the apartment underneath ours, and he wanted to know about the horrible smelling liquid dripping into his home. Apparently he had complained to the management about it, and they told him it was just runoff from the shower in my bathroom.

But I never use that shower… it’s tiny and claustrophobic and the cold water side of the equation does not work. So unless I feel like getting scalded in a tiny plastic box, I don’t go in there.

Seriously. It’s like a sci fi torture chamber.

Nope, it was poop water, and I had to tell him that. Well, I told him it was water from an overflowing toilet and he got the idea. He also informed me that he had collected it in a bowl, that it had filled one of his light fixtures, that he had to get confirmation that it was not just shower water before he could get the management to do anything, and that… his son had played with the water in the bowl.

All this made me feel super worse and I do not feel that this time I will recover as quickly. It was bad enough that my foul emanations had contaminated our apartment… I had shit where I live, something even dumb animals do not do… but to then learn that my worst fears were true and that the ichor in question had oozed its way to the apartment below to visit foulness and contamination on them… I just wanted to die, to withdraw so deep into myself that my body just crumples up from the inside from the black hole around my heart. I wanted to just run away, to just walk out the door and run and run and run till I drop, then die where I lay. Anything to free people of my wretched foulness.

Maybe find a nice little swamp to decompose in. I mean, it already smells like that.

And people would say “It’s sad that he is gone, but… perhaps this is for the best. ”

And everyone else would nod.

The physical sensations when I feel this bad are something else. I feel tense on the outside, especially in my jaw and my hands, My head feels hollow and I get a pain right on the “third eye” spot where a Hindu would put their bindi. But the biggest sensation is a profound icy coldness right around my heart. It sounds metaphorical, but that is literally what I am feeling at the time. Like there is solid ice around my heart.

I suppose that is my parasympathetic endocrine system trying to fight the sudden influx of negative emotional input and overcompensating as usual. There had to be some happy medium between panicked and numb. Room enough to live, so to speak.

And now I numbly await Act III, which will no doubt be the manager of this apartment complex knocking on our door and giving us hell and asking why we did not tell her about the toilet overflow and probably looking to make us pay for the cleanup costs for decontaminating the downstairs apartment.

So I do not feel very good today. There is a dim and ephemeral part of me, as shadowy and insubstantial as the ghost of a butterfly, that knows that this is all irrational, that these things happen, that this has nothing to do with my being a horrible shit beast… but I am not listening to it.

Not because I think it is wrong, but because I know that it is right on only a superficial way that does not speak to the deep emotions inside. I am forsaking suppression lately, and that means that I am going to feel whatever I feel, even when it is bad, dangerous, and wrong.

And when I come out the other side of these deep dark forest, it will be because I have felt all the emotions that needed feeling and have arrived at the other side naturally, not just taken the shortcut of suppression that leaves pieces of me behind in countless different other forests of the past.

I would rather become more whole. Suppressing everything is a hard habit to break. And it is distinctly inconvenient. Emotions might just barge in and interrupt what I am doing, and I hate that.

But better to deal with them by feeling them than to lock them away to rot in some overflowing necropolis of the mind.

And don’t worry friends, I am not going to hurt myself. This is just me venting.

See you tomorrow, friends.