I’m loising it

<how can you tell people they are stupid>

Well, it’s official. I’m losing it. I'[m starting to fall apart and I never even had it together in the first place.

Here’s the deal. Tonight, I dropped and broke one of our plates. No big deal, shit happens, it jangled my nerves and I feel a little bad about it, but whatever.

It’s how it happened that has me scared.

Because it didn’t just slip out of my wingers or accidentally get knocked off the counter. I twitched. That’s the only word I have to describe it. There was a muscular twitch in my hands, my dfingertips went completely numb.

In fact, the feeling hasn’t totally come back yet and it’s been half an hour.

So clearly my diabetic peripheral neuropathy is getting worse. To be honest, tonight’s incident was not the first such incident. Not by a long shot.

Tonight just happens to be the night I chose to stop bullshitting myself about it and face the facts. The truth is, it’s more than just some numbness in my fingertips now.

Now the nerves as damatged enough to misfire and trigger muscle spasms, and the numbness is beginning to slowly spread up my fingers.

And if I don’t do something about it, I will end up even more disabled than I am now. The problem is already messing with my typing. I type a lot more extra letters than I ever did before, and it’s because I am losing fine control of my fingers.

And I never had much of that to begin with.

And I know what the damned problem is. It’s that I suck so bad at taking care of myself, especially my diabetes.

What do I do to control my diabetes? Take my meds and qavoid sweet foods.

What don’t I do? I don’t monitor my glucose levels. I don’t take insulin at night. I don’t eat a low carb diet. I don’t exercise to keep my circulation going.

I don’t even rub my feet to stimulate circulation, and they are right there.

Instead, I sit here and play video games all day like a fucking zombie while my life ticks away and I get sicker and sicker and every day is another shovel load of dirt towards the day when I am buried alive in my own flesh,. and yet I do nothing.

And it’s not good enough, dammit. And part of me is screaming for me to change but I am too numb from my depression to listen.

It makes me want to scream. But that would take too much effort.

I’m just so numb, numb. numb. Motivation doesn’t stand a chance.

The icy seas

never cease

their deadly beating on my shore. 

They’ll only stop

When down I drop

And not trouble this world any more

That just kind of came spilling out of me. I could probably go on for a lot of verses but that, too, seems like too much work.

Besides. poetry is too easy for me. That’s why I don’t value it.

How fucked up is that?

I have to admit, my depression (in the form of the chemical imbalance) has gotten a lot worse lately. The desire to stay in bed and sleep all I can so I don’t have to deal with anything ever is growing strong in me.

I’ve been ignoring it, for the most part. My will is strong enough to handle it. This gives me the chance to consider my path.

On the one hand, I certainly don’t want to give in and become even more depressed and end up in an even deeper hole that I am in right now.

On the other hand,. I want to listen to my emotions and try to figure out what they are trying to tell me. Part of my disease of excess rationality is that I don’t listen to my emotions and hold myself rigid through intellectual rigor instead.

Like I can force myself to be someone I’m not by sheer force of will.

Yeah, that’s pretty much bullshit. NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN.

Instead, I want to open myself up to my own emotions and through them find out who I really am. That means I have to be willing to risk finding out that I am not the person that I thought I was, and that’s a very scary thought.

But better to know who I really am, warts and all, than to keep doing the insane thing of trying the same thing over and over again expecting it to word “any time now”.

It ain’t workin’. It will never work. Move on.

It’s super scary to step out of the bright light of logic and reason, with their seeming ability to solve any problem in the world.

But life is not a riddle. A lot more is going on that what logical reasoning can hope to contain. We are not robots. We are human beings, with emotions and instinct and needs that all interact in a complex web of forces that we barely understand.

One of the deep truths about being a live human on planet Earth is that even the most reflective and thoughtful of us remain mostly a mystery to ourselves for our whole lives.

That’s because the totality of our minds is far, far more than our conscious minds can comprehend. Even the dullest among us are a vast dark galaxy unto themselves.

That is the sort of thing that informs my humanism. It makes it hard to reduce people to cartoonish stereotypes when you truly see into the souls of others and find so much pain and confusion and fear that resonates with your own problems.

And remember, every human being is 99.99 percent genetically identical to all other humans. And we all have the same basic programming in our brains and bodies.

That is what we humanist types mean when we say that we have far, far more in common with one another than the few things on which we differ.

And I see that I have once more wandered off on an intellectual tangent rather than talk about the scary thing I set out to talk about.

I still have no idea what I will do about my diabetes. Probably nothing.

It’s so much easier to just let myself die.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

 

 

 

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