Feeling very blah right now.

My life seems gross and unpalatable to me. I have nothing to look forward to. Just more of the same as things slowly get worse and I stare, transfixed, at the setting sun of my soul, unable (or unwilling, same thing) to move a muscle to fix my situation.

Here’s my situation as I see it :

I have recovered enough to be at least partly alive. My id is activated and all the instincts and impulses that normally drive people towards self-actualization are awake within my tortured soul.

But when I try to follow those instincts and reach out with my energies to finally connect with the world and become a part of it, I encounter my damage and the whole thing shuts down entirely.

It’s a dead circuit that can bear no voltage. A short circuit that instantly pops the fuse the moment any power is applied to it.

And I don’t know if it can ever be repaired.

If not, then the only alternative is to route around it. Find an alternate path for my energies so they can get where they want to go despite the damage.

This will involve a lot of heavy work because whole new tunnels will be needed to be bored through the rocks and dirt of my mind in order to make a way for the necessary cables and wires and pipes to get around the damage.

It’s a classic judgment call. I can keep drilling away at the diamond hard damage as I try to force my way through it, making very slow but steady progress, and hope that one day I will break through to the surface and be free, or I can completely switch tactics and look for a different route to my goals.

Or maybe this whole metaphor is flawed and the real secret is to just relax and concentrate on being myself to the fullest possible extent.

And then, I suppose, doing what comes naturally from there.

That sounds both correct and useless to me. Correct in that as stated, it makes sense and is plausible.

But useless because that’s not a route I can take right now. It’s hard to explain, but when I try to imagine going in that direction, everything freezes up inside me and I get a “dead end” feeling that is overpowering.

Maybe I will get there someday. But not today.

There’s just so much coldness inside of me. I feel it keenly when I am digging around in my psyche like this. And it’s painful and unpleasant and sometimes makes me so sad that I have to shut down and grieve for the parts of me that died of frostbite and neglect.

I keep coming back to wondering why I never learned to actually seek and acquire what I needed to thrive.

All I can think of is that I was far too adaptable for my own good. Instead of changing my circumstances to suit me better, I changing myself to make due with whatever I got, and thus avoided have to confront said circumstances and fight to change them.

So it all comes down to cowardice, in a sense. But that doesn’t seem like a sufficient answer. There is something behind the seeming cowardice.

Not sure what to call it. But it takes the form of a lack of vitality and strength.

In fact, now that I have it under the microscope, it’s that same tripped circuit breaker feeling I was talking about earlier.Instead of my energies surging outward to confront the problem, some plug gets pulled and it all just drains away.

I guess we’ve switched from an electrical metaphor to plumbing now.

Right now, I am thinking that this somehow connects with that primal retreat into the depths of my own mind that happened when I was raped.

As in, that disconnection happens when to go forward would take me too far from my tiny central core and so instead of pushing forward, I retreat back into myself.

The image in my head is of my hauling a tentative pseudopod back into myself with a comical “fishing line retracting back into the reel” sound effect.

Because that is how I visualize myself sometimes. As a sort of amoeba like creature that never actually leaves the crack or crevice it lives in, just extends pseudopods into the world that then can be morphed to simulate my actually being there.

And I do such a good job of simulating it that even i can’t tell the difference until something breaks the connection and I realize it was VR the whole time.

The truth is, I retreated into my mind for good when I was raped. I am still in that place I went to when I took my mind away from the situation. My whole life since that horrible day has been lived while crouching in my little cave, and that has resulted in my being an awkward and clumsy person who stumbles through life despite his prodigous intellect because it’s very hard to live one’s life like that.

Viewed in this light, my dreams of emerging from my shell and walking naked and free in the warmth of the sun take on a somewhat desperate undertone.

It’s no longer just a dream of getting out of my current life. It’s a dream of overcoming the very primal trauma that has shaped my entire psyche for most of my life.

It’s about finally leaving my shell behind and walking into the wider world on two strong legs, head held high, determined to go off injto the big wide world in search of adventure, experience, pain, and growth.

I’m sick and tired of that goddamned shell anyhow. I have been there far too long and it’s beginning to smell pretty bad. It went toxic a long time ago as it rotted around me, and the sooner I can leave that rotting hulk behind, the sooner I will grow healthy and strong and ready to take on the world.

So fuck the shell. I am leaving it far behind me, and I ain’t looking back.

It’s time to get on with the rest of my life.

And I don’t give a damn if that is safe or not.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.