Went and got my dressing changed today. At 11 am, even though my original appointment was for 2:30 pm.
That makes two Fridays in a row that they have called on Thursday to change the time of my appointment due to “understaffing”.
If it happens a third time, I am going to complain. I mean, are they competent to keep an appointment or aren’t they?
I resent these little disruptions and it gives me doubts about my care that I could do without, thank ye kindly.
Still, the nurses there are all highly competent and pleasant. So I don’t really have an issue with my care per se.
Still, get your shit together people.
The good news is that it does look like my wound is healing. It’s smaller than before and it looks like my body is making some kind of attempt to close the wound.
It’s gone to be a long time before it is fully healed, but the outlook is good.
I choose to attribute the progress to my cutting out a lot of the carbs from my diet. That has to have had a good effect on my blood sugars.
Intriguingly, since I made the switch, I have been a lot less hungry. That goddamned nagging hyper-hunger that I have dealing with for months totally disappeared, which suggests that my theory of its origin is possibly flawed.
There’s so much I don’t know about endocrinology.
Right now, that fucking hyperphagic hunger is back because I thoughtlessly bought some Ritz crackers for snacking, totally forgetting the anti-carb thing.
No carbs = no hunger.
Carbs = hunger returns.
I’d say the principle is proven.
Obviously, I need to get off my ginormous buttcheeks and get myself a glucose meter already. But alas, it remains in what the fabulous Felicity calls a “gumption trap”.
It’s a kind of motivational sinkhole that we depressives fall into where we reach a step in a process that is too complicated, scary, or hard for us, and that robs us of all motivation to continue the process, and so we stall out and end up stranded there.
Kind of like having your car go into a ditch.
Hopefully, I will eventually generate the necessary burst of horsepower to free myself from the ditch and get the goddamned thing done some time soon.
Too bad I can’t just call CAA and get them to send a tow truck.
Affirmation time : I contribute. I count. I am not a liability. I make people happy just by being around. I make the world a better place by being in it.
Repeat until believed.
Seriously. I am going to keep typing that into my blog until I am sure I believe it fully.
it has the power to crack my depression wide open and cauterize some very old wounds and free me from a lot of deep existential guilt.
As in, feeling guilty just for being alive and inconveniencing everyone.
Because if I am not a liability, I am not a burden anymore either.
I pay my way in my own way.
And that, my friends, is huge.
I’m sure if you asked the people who know and love me, they would say I am definitely worth having around. They don’t see me as a liability or a burden.
Well, maybe a bit of a burden,. But worth it.
In fact, I like to think they see me as the unique and amazing critter I am. Charming, cute, silly, witty, funny (not the same thing), and sweet, and unlike anyone they have ever met before.
Plus I have a mind that flashes and crackles with intelligence and a unique way of looking at the world that pierces the bullshit and finds glitter gems of truth hidden in the fog of the social illusion.
I can feel part of me resisting all these uncomfortably positive truths. It wants nothing more than to crawl back into its hole and forget all these strange and disruptive thoughts in favour of the cool dark comfort of depression’s chill embrace.
Well fuck that. I am going to build an entirely new sense of self out of these thoughts, and anything that resists or gets in the way shall be burned out with the eye of the sun itself as it puts all the poison and filth inside me to the flame.
Burn, you son of a bitch. BURN. Burn until you DIE.
I’m setting my mind on PURGE. Everything that is not part of healthy happy me must go. It’s like a find-and-delete for my soul.
I’m a good person. I am worthy. I deserve my fair share of the good things in life. I have spent most of my life in cringing apology for being alive and having wants and needs and desires that might, in theory, take away from those more worthy than myself.
Which is everybody.
Well the apologies end here. I have nothing to be ashamed of and I do not have to live on whatever happens to fall from the heavens when people feel like throwing a few scraps to the dog they only occasionally remember they bought.
So my family never made space for me or made me part of the family. So they never ever treated me like an equal or even a worthy inferior. So they made me feel like they wished I would just go away forever. So they never even redistributed all the good things so that I got some, too.
That was then. And it was awful. But it was a long time ago, and I don’t have to keep thinking of myself the way they did.
I’m a strong, tough, capable, useful person who is perfectly able to take care of himself and make his way through life with some dignity and pride.
I don’t have to always rely on the kindness of others.
I don’t have to advertise my patheticness in the hopes of garnering pity.
I don’t have to accept that I am not built for survival.
Whatever problems I have can be overcome, just like any other disability.
And some day soon, I will feel like a real person for the first time in 42 years.
And it will be glorious.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.