Been having a weird time of it lately.

First off, last night : I did not get any decent sleep last night because for some reason, every 2 hours or so, I woke up with a super full bladder and had to get up to take a piss.

This was very very irritating. Dunno where my body was keeping all that extra fluid, or why it decided it had to shift its water ballast all at once, but that is, indeed, what happened.

And I am no “power sleeper” who goes directly into REM-rich sleep moments after my head hits the pillow. I am as cautious in sleep as I am in life, in a sense, and I don’t commit to the really good sleep until I have been asleep for a while and my brain is convinced that we’re in for the long haul.

So these brief sleeps were more maddening than soothing.

And all this, on my therapy morning. Normally, that is Thursday, but for holiday scheduling reasons, my doc had to put me on Wednesday instead this week, and I won’t be seeing him again until the 20th, in order words, 2 weeks from tomorrow.

So, yay on that, then.

So I had to get up at 7 am despite not having really had much sleep at all, and when I tried to take a nap this afternoon, I still ended up needing to get up to pee 2 hours later. So I am running a fairly significant sleep debt right now.

Nothing big happened in therapy, although I did get asked some questions that made me really think, and that is always productive in therapy, at least in my little world.

Like I have said many times before, the most important job of a therapist, to me, is to ask questions and make observations that force me to think about things different and look at things from a different point of view than my own.

Left to my own devices, I will run in the same circles over and over again, making progress only very slowly. The right questions at the right time can force my train of thought onto an entirely different track, and save me a hell of a lot of time.

And I am pushing forty, and so I may not have all that long left. Not a lot of people as fat and sick as me make it to 50.

And with the way I have been feeling lately, I wonder.

Maybe it is just plain emotional constipation. Too many feelings locked up inside me making me all seized up and jammed up and fucked up inside.

I just find it so hard to deal lately. The urge to just crawl into a deep dark hole and pull the whole in after me is strong in me right now. I feel hemmed in by fear and pain and loneliness and depression and all that other bad stuff.

I feel like I have been stuffed in a cage and forgotten in some deep dark hole down a public oubliette lately. The sunshine and happiness retreat further and further away while I watch helplessly, unable even to move or think, let alone pursue it.

Of course, the sunshine really has gone away. It’s winter, after all. It gets dark so early sometimes that, with my messed up sleep schedule, it is getting dark just as I am getting up.

That cannot possibly be healthy.

I just feel so burdened. With emotion, I suppose. Got to find a way to let it all out.

That is harder to do now that I have shut off the old “self-loathing” valve. (Well, not entirely. But compared to before, it is almost totally shut off. )

I am even getting pretty good at remembering that I am a cool, talented, intelligent, insightful fellow more often that not. I am learning to build a stable sense of self, and that makes a huuuuge difference when it comes to how vulnerable to the world you feel.

Without a stable sense of self, any input at all can cause your self-worth to fluctuate wildly and cause great internal chaos. The person then, not surprisingly, considers the world to be a cold and hostile place, because to them, it is.

But with a stable sense of self, your ego has shock absorbers and the road does not seem so rough.

And I am working on all that. So why do I feel so crappy?

Some of it has to be physical. Although with me, I can never tell. Are my physical symptoms caused by my emotional issues, or vice versa?

Who knows. And saying “It’s both, in a continuum” might be more accurate but it is sure as fuck not any more helpful, at least, not to me.

I just feel like a steaming sack of fetid shit lately, and I don’t know why. I feel craven and low and bored and frustrated and tied up and hemmed in and trapped.

I feel like climbing something tall and screaming “FUCK YOU!” into the night at the top of my lungs until I feel better, or pass out, or bust a lung, or whatever.

Finding a route for catharsis that does not involve taking it out on myself is proving a lot trickier than I thought it would be.

If this keeps up, I might have to find catharsis by actually doing things.

And that is just plain crazy talk. (Or, you know, sane talk, and since when have I listened to that? Sanity makes no sense to the insane. )

Oh, and to add to it all, the insulin is having no provable effect on my diabetes yet. I have not being writing my readings down like I am supposed to do, but my sense of it is that I am getting the same range of readings every day.

And I am up to 24 units of insulin… 26 tonight… and I sort of expected some sort of provable effect by now. That has me down, too.

All in all, pbbt.