Metaphorically speaking, that is. Relax.
I must be getting the suffering I asked for because I feel like crap, emotionally speaking.
I feel angry and resentful and bitter and nihilistic and I am not even trying to hold back the tidal waves of self loathing with the tiny dyke of my emotional self-control.
I just let the waves wash through me. They don’t mean anything, anyway. It’s just the same old dog chewing on the same old bone again. I am full of frustration and bitterness, and the only way I know how to deal with that is to take it out on myself.
So blah blah loser, wasting my life, every day closer to death and I haven’t even started living yet, etc etc sis boom bah.
None of it means anything because the truth is that I am a very sick man, and I am doing the best that I can with what I have.
And who could ask for anything more?
So part of me want to scream myself bloody. I have a lot of raw emotional energy looking for a way out. A lot of blocked id struggling to find a way to finally bring me to life after all these years as the walking dead.
I’ve been using a good visualization to get my energies going to the right place for once. When I feel one of these energy surges, I imagine the energy going into my body and warming all those cold empty places within me with the wholesome sunshine of real,healthy wholesome life force.
Makes me feel a lot better when I remember to do it. I think that, in a primitive way, I am learning the basics of how to support and inflate one’s mood.
Pretty sure that’s how healthy people stay healthy. By various means, they compensate for whatever emotional inputs they are lacking with this sort of energy, and that keeps them going long enough to get the real emotional inputs they need.
It’s just us mental mutants obsessed with things being “real” who stupidly try to get by on just what life hands them.
The result? Depression, and when you are depressed, life ain’t handing you dick. And even if it is, you’re too damned numb to feel it.
So you know what? Fine. I hereby declare that I am totally fine with “faking” the emotional warmth, affection, acceptance, support, and love that I so desperately need.
And I don’t give a shit if that means the people who abused and neglected me are “getting away with it”. News flash, they already did get away with it and a lot of them are dead and the rest are out of my reach so fuck it.
And no matter how long I sit on the side of the road looking pathetic and sad, nobody is going to take pity on me and rescue me and give me the childhood I deserved.
It’s never going to happen. So I might as well get up onto my own two feet, give the middle finger to a callous and uncaring world, and go looking for happiness myself.
Forget that happy childhood and look for a happy adulthood.
Let those damnable dreams die.
More after the break.
And then I stood up
Everything was fine. I was ready to get a shower then get dressed and go to have our usual Friday night confab with Felicity in the parking lot of the Ironwood McD’s.
And then I stood up, and everything changed. When I stood up, I immediately got very dizzy and nauseous and ill.
So here I sit, heavily but unsteadily, knowing there is little I can do to make this sick ride I am on go any faster so I get off sooner.
Right now. my main concern is trying to get myself calmed down enough to order or make something for supper, then the real challenge begins: making myself eat it.
I am seriously considering just skipping the meal entirely. Not something a diabetic like myself should do, but an attractive proposition nonetheless.
Now if only the room would stop spinning.
Stupid fucking room.
Pooped. Feel a fair bit better now. I am still crazy dizzy and unsteady but the nausea has abated somewhat.
So there’s that.
Beginning to feel like eating is a possibility, at least in theory. Dunno what I want just yet, it’s too early for that.
Kind of craving potato salad. Weird.
Depression as decadence
Been reading parts of Nietzsche’s The Antichrist, which has a horse sized dose of his complaint about Christianity being anti-life and anti-health and anti-spirit and basically against everything that makes us feel healthy and strong and joyful.
And it’s got me thinking about my own degenerate self. Despite being one hundred percent religion free, I can see that same pattern in myself.
I have always shied away from the red beating heart of life, preferring to live in the icy cold shadows of my mind, knowing nothing of the world except how to entertain myself.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, etc.
So I end up fleeing from the hot dense complex world full of physical, social, and overwhelming mental stimulation. And for many years, I did not question that.
But then one day last year I looked out at a beautiful summer day and I asked myself why can’t that be my life. Why do I have to hide away from the world that contains all the good things I could ever want from life? Why can’t I be one of the good,healthy, strong, lively people of the world?
Why couldn’t I be alive.
And I have trying to resurrect myself ever since.
I know it’s a matter of desensitization. That the world would not seem so hot dense and loud to me if I simply put myself out there long enough to adjust to it. That the smart thing would be to increase my exposure gradually until I am ready.
But I am not nearly organized, self-disciplined, or stable for that.
So I will continue to live this frozen lifestyle until someone or something arrives to shove me out of my comfort zone and into the big bad world out there.
’cause I sure as fuck won’t do it myself.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.