You guys are still out there, right?
Another sleepy fucking day. I am getting a little worried. So far, it’s within known parameters – I have had periods like this before.
And hated it each time, god dammit.
But this weak, heavy feeling is new. And I don’t like it, either.
Maybe it’s not new. Maybe it’s always been there during these periods and I just never noticed it before. Abnd now that my neuroses have attached to it as somethng to obsess and worry about, they are quite reluctant to let it go.
After all, torturing me is their only hobby.
Right now it’s bad but not too bad. I am more awake than I was at this time yesterday. I am still quite likely toi lay down for a nap when I take a break, but at least today, it feels somewhat optional instead of as inevitable as entropy.
Yesterday it was taking all the thrust I could muster just to resist the pull of my deep gravity well enough to stay in one place. The second I let up, boom, sleep.
My metaphors are so nerdy.
Right now, I am not finding staying awake super hard. Part of me still wishes I was safe and sound in the loving arms of sleep[1], and the words are definitely not coming easy for me right now, but it ain’t too bad.
It’s just that there’s so much to do, and I’m tired of sleeping.
I’ve been getting lots of sleep, but it’s the kind of sleep that kicks my ass. The kind that leaves me feeling worse than I did when I went to sleep. Like I have run a marathon in the cold then taken a severe beating.
Smothering in your sleep will do that for you.
Oh well, I at least I have FRED to look forward to, and after that, when I do my Sunday shopping, I will have the tiny adventure of only buying non-carb-loaded snacks like almonds, peanuts, and whatever kind of dried-pea snacks I can find at Sav-On.
I hope they have wasabi peas. Those are my favorite.
Been pondering my damage. The wall within. I feel that being able to conceptualize it as a seperate and distinct aspect of my mind is a huge leap forward in my recovery.
In my stronger moments, I can even direct my will against it and in doing so, cause it to melt and crack and start to crumble.
It’s slow now, but the process will get faster as it goes.
I think of escape often. Running away like I have discussed here. Or dreaming of being able to just check myself in to a mental health institution and have them take care of me in a thorough and intensive way until I am healthy enough to make it on my own.
Fat chance of that. They only care about psychotics. Us mere depressives are not worth their time unless we do something exciting, like try to kill ourselves.
Nobody gives a shit about us quiet crazies.
I will be back later.
The thing about becoming conscious of my damage is that now I know exactly how and why I am crazy.
And from my current POV, it seems strange that I went so long not being able to see or feel this terrible injury of mine.
I suppose I had to be strong enough first. Strong enough to handle the shock, strong enough to make the seperation, strong enough to pull this scab off and look at the nasty mess of compacted and infected scar tissue underneath.
Strong enough to strain against this new barrier and push it back like an incoming tide.
Slow but inevitable.
I certainly can summon lots of rage against it. I never have any trouble getting angry at being trapped, limited, or restricted. Now that I have successfully conceptualized it as a wall of ice wrapped around my soul, my inherent loathing of anything that dares to think it can hold me back can do its work.
Of course, then I run into the container conundrum – a liquid like me inherently fights being contained while also being terrified of what would happen if we did not have a nice safe cozy container to keep us together when we get tired.
Retaining a shape can be very draining. We need Odo’s bucket to relax in.
Right now, I am perfectly willing to shatter this container of mine. The one getting raped at 4 forced me to build around myself. The one that cuts me off from the rest of humanity and strands me in the cold and the dark as I starve for affection and approval and simple human contact.
Everything I have ever wanted is waiting for me on the other side of that barrier.
You’re damned right I am going to smash it.
And if that means I lose my shape and end up spreading out like a puddle till I evaporate, that’s fnine by me.
Like I said before, I no longer believe that it is possible to harm oneself via any conscious act of the mind. Even if I dry up, I will still be around.
Heck, maybe all that will really happen is that the true me that has buried under all that water and ice will finally emerge, and know what it is like to be dry and warm for the first time in 42 years.
I am amazing with metaphors.
Whatever it takes to escape my lonesome prison cell, I will do. I have reached the point where animals gnaw off a limb to escape a trap.
If I have to cut off a big part of me to get out of this cage, I will do it.
I have nothing within me that is more important than my liberation.
I will change whatever I have to in order to be free.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.