I feel like that should be the title for the entire blog.
What can I say, some of us don’t do well with labels. This blog is whatever I need it to be when I sit down to write and it’s kind of hard to label something like that accurately.
So ladies and gentlemen, let me present….. whatever the hell this is!
Crowd goes wild with confused applause.
Mood for the last two days has been medium crappy. My “NIHILIST HULK SMASH” mood has settled down to something more like halfway between “cranky” and “glum”.
I just feel so goddamned damaged lately. So weak and confused and unable to cope. And not at all in command of myself, which is tough for a male.
We’re raised to take responsibility for our actions. Even when they are beyond our control. No matter what, the buck stops here.
It all comes back to that perennial topic of mine, forgiving myself for being sick.
Put that way, the absurdity and the injustice of the situation become starkly apparent. Being sick is, by and large, something that it beyond your control, and that goes double (or more) for mental illness, because then the very thing making the decisions is not working right. Namely my brain.
But therein lies the fundamental paradox of my existence (or one of them, anyhow), because no matter how badly my brain functions and how poor and self-destructive the decisions it makes might be, I am still the only one in charge.
After all, existential freedom (and hence responsibility) is absolute. No matter how fucked up my brain is, I am still the only person who can make my decisions for me. Even if I give myself unto some sort of mental health facility (not an option – more on that in a bit) I would still be the person who decided to do it and I would still be the one deciding what to do when I am in there.
Now about my going into the hospital or literally anywhere else that could help a poverty stricken indolent like myself : I asked my therapist about it and he told me that as far as he knows, that is just plain not an option for someone like me. You know, a low dowdirty depressive and not something more fun and sexy like a psychotic or someone with borderline personality syndrome.
Heck, I don’t even have a history of suicide attempts or other thrilling things like that. I’m just a dull ol depressive and honestly, how dare I even suggest that the system should care about a well behaved loony like me?
It’s like I’m not even trying.
So I guess if I want to earn the attention of the mental health system, I will just have to go kill somebody. Wouldn’t that look cute at my trial.
DA : Mister Bertrand, why did you kill that man?
Me : Well I didn’t want to, but it was the only way I could get treated for my mental illness. You see, I suffer from depression, and the system….
Hmmmm. There must be a better way to indicate that something is not meant to be taken as part of the body text of the blog entry.
HTML needs a CUTAWAY tag,
Anyhow. Forgiving myself for being sick. Right.
It seems like a slam dunk logically. But of course, despite my extraordinary powers of logic, deductive reasoning, and humilty, I am still as illogical and irrational as any other human being, and crazy to boot.
Boy, it really hurt to publically disavow my membership in some kind of logic based elite like that. Fascinating. Apparently I had a lot more invested in being part of the “more logicla and sensible than thou” set than I ever realized.
Oh well, I am probably better off without it. Hard to forgive yourself for being sick when you can’t even forgive yourself for being human.
And maybe that’s what this whole thing boils down to in the end. I can’t even accept that I am nothing more than another human being like the other seven billion jumped up monkeys in the world. Like a lot of mental weirdos, I have invested so much in my own specialness that it has divorced me from my own humanity.
After all, it’s the only way to preserve any self worth once you have realized ….wait.
Nope! Not going to wander off into pontificating. Caught myself at it this time.
So, divorced from my own humanity. An inability to accept one’s human limitations does sound pretty terrible. It certainly doesn’t fit with my self-image as someone who faces the facts and doesnt harbor absurdly self-defeating delusions like that.
Which is, in and of itself, very human of me. Both the inability to accept my human nature and my believing that I was above that sort of thing somehow.
Well consider me demoted from the rank of angel and booted out of Secular Eden, then. I never really belonged there in the first place. It’s just where my self-esteem was hiding out and hoping not to be noticed.
The truth is that no matter how smart someone is, or how powerful their perceptions and powers of analysis are, or how much more of the chessboard of life they can see than the rest of the herd, or really absolutely anything else they can possibly boast of, they are still a goddamned monkey and the sooner they accept that, the better.
And of course, by “someone”, I mean me.
It just hurts less to phrase it as if I am telling it to someone else.
And to think I looked down derisively on Nietzsche for all his bitching about things he considered “human, all too human”.
And that from the man who taught me not to trust transcendentalists!
Truly, even the greatest of us are but capering fools in threadbare clothing.
Wow, what a truly pretentious thing to say.
How very human of me.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
O WAIT. No I won’t., because tomorrow VancouFur begins and I likely will not have time to blog. Dammit.
Shit. I might not blog again till Monday.
OK then : I will talk to you nice people again Monday at the latest.
Now I have made myself feel terrible about missing a day!