It has occurred to me that I care about a lot of stupid shit that is not even within my control.

Now I am not talking about philosophical or political caring. I am now and will always be implacably dedicated to the pursuit of the higher compassion. Nothing can change that.

No, I am talking about stupid petty personal things which I not only care about, I blame myself for.

For example, if I am talking to someone and the conversation dies, it’s my fault. I’m dull, I’m boring, it’s my job to keep the conversation going with questions and insights, and so any awkwardness coming from a conversational pause is my fault and I suck.

One can easily see how that sort of thinking leads to very low self-esteem. There is no equality to the system, no sense that it is just as much the other person’s job to keep the conversation going as it is mine. Nope, if there is a pause, it’s my fault for not being interesting and/or clever enough.

This is of particular concern to me lately, as the trend towards internality has continues and I find it increasingly difficult to remain totally focused while talking to people. The parts of my mind that were once readily available to focus on conversation , think of things to say, make predictions as to where the conversation is going, feel for the right moment to speak, and so on are all clogged up with internal processing, and it feels like my mind is filled with a thick heavy fog.

The most alarming part of this is I sometimes find myself fading out when I am the one talking. It’s very dissociative amd disturbing, and I feel like I am losing my grip.

What’s worse is that I don’t think there is anything I can do about it. The fog is just there. I can’t make it go away.

What really bothers me is the idea that my friends think I am ignoring them because they are boring or unimportant to me. Nothing could be further from the truth. I enjoy and value them greatly. I just don’t have it in me to be the twittering little songbird that keeps the conversation going any more.

I try and I try, but it’s like trying to fight the tide.

Why is this happening? Could be a number of things. Could be simply that my physical health is deteriorating and it is taking my intellectual health with it. When I was out and about yesterday, I felt terribly terribly weak. Every step felt like I was wearing a cement suit and my body ached and I felt out of breath.

This has me worried. Also irritated that this symptom presented itself right after I talked to my GP.

There were no chest pains, thank goodness, and at first I assumed it had something to do with my lungs. But I seem to be breathing okay, and that leaves the heart.

It could be that my heart is giving out slowly.

Less dramatically, it could have simply been fucked up blood sugar. I was out of diabetes meds for way too long. It might have simply been that my body did not have enough insulin response to respond to what, for it, was a major uptick in activity.

I was also carrying a somewhat heavy bag. Possibly not a good idea.

It was very frustrating, because usually when I am out and about like that, my body resists at first but then finally accepts that I am going to be moving for a while, and my weak little engine coughs into first gear, and I feel a lot better.

But not yesterday. That second wind never came. Hell, the first wind is still on back-order.

Back to my increasing internality. The positive view is that this is a temporary state as my mind processes a lot of uncorked emotions and therefore needs more and more of my mental CPU cycles to work on it.

The negative view would be that I am simply losing my mind, and it is only a matter of time before my ultimate nightmare occurs and I fall into my own mind completely and totally lose touch with reality, and end up a drooling catatonic in a back ward somewhere, helpless against my nightmares.

Either way, the furniture is definitely in motion in my mind. The process of recovery is moving into a higher gear and I no longer have any control of the process. What has begun must be done. It is as inevitable as a viral infection that has to run its course before the patient is well again.

So it might get worse before it gets better. I might have to spend a lot of time sleeping and a lot of time awake but haunted and eclipsed by the deep mystical truths I must now confront.

Honestly, I would rather do it in my sleep, but some things only happen in the light of day.

It is good, though, that this train does not stop. If it was optional, I might chicken out and get off.

That would only lead to stagnation, though, and I have had quite enough of that, thank you. I burn for freedom from my self imposed cage. My skin craves sunlight and fresh air. There has to be a way that I can feel clean.

So the recovery process will continue. I might be able to slow it, but I could never stop it. And deep down, I ache for transcendence and transformation.

I have been this version of me for far too long. I am so tired of being the world’s oldest caterpillar.

So if I have to walk through the valley of madness, if I have to tread the tightrope over the pit of insanity in order to find my promised land, so be it.

If all else fails, I can just go crazy.

I find that oddly comforting.