Just got off the phone with my therapist and this is what is on my mind.
We talked about how I have always felt like I am on the outside looking in at the bright warm welcome world most other people live in.
A fundamental part of that is the feeling that no matter how much I long to be part of that world and to feel included, there is something fundamentally wrong with me that makes it impossible.
Picture a sad little robot boy peering through a window at a big happy nuclear family and wondering what it would be like to be a part of it, but his happy imaginings are interrupted when the matriarch of the family sees him out there and opens the window to say “Shoo! Go on! Get out of here, you creepy little robot!”.
Spoiler : the boy is me.
And like any proper robot boy, I want to be more human. I don’t want to keep skulking in the shadows of life’s outer edge. I am tired of being cold and detached and “objective”. I want to feel warm and human and alive.
And I want all the emotions my squandered id has cost me. Anger, passion, inspiration, ambition, motivation, hell even good old fashioned lust.
I want it all. I want everything I can get my hands on that might help finally bring balance to my lopsided psyche and make me fully and truly human.
A real little boy at long last.
Maybe then I can work on growing up.
The guru smiled as I took in view from his ashram high in the Himalayas.
“Yes, I can see a lot from up here.” he said. ” But it is also very cold. “
I feel the stirrings of life deep within my soul.
Something is trying to wake up. A hibernating bear smells spring and feels a flush throughout its body. A dormouse stirs from winter’s dreamless slumber. A bored farmer eyes his tractor as he sniffs the air and wonders.
Something in me wants to be born. My icy water broke and now the long dormant life force within me starts squirming in discomfort and eyeing the exits.
Dare I give birth to myself?
It’s bound to be painful and disgusting. Rebirth is no cleaner than birth, after all.
Then again, dare I interfere?
Now that the baby is awake, it’s going to want out.
Who knows what havoc a long denied child could do to my insides?
I’d better give it what it wants before it’s too late!
So, breathe in life. Breathe out death. Breathe in strength. Breathe out weakness. Breathe in power. Breathe out fear. Breathe in joy. Breathe out despair.
And get greedy for that oxygen. Stuff myself with it. Gather it, hold on to it, stockpile it, hoard it. use it to build my ladder to the sky.
Gorge myself on life’s rich buffet until my soul has no choice but to grow.
Let my poor starved id get fat and sassy.
Lord knows it deserves it.
More after the break.
What’s up with Fru?
Oh I dunno.
I just know that something happened while I was laying down and suddenly I was incredibly tense and agitated and I had to get out of bed and get moving because lying there had become physically painful.
Doing 30 of my vertical pushups helped burn off some of the overcharge and that let me focus enough to go make supper, but still, like what the F, man?
It also made me very hungry. Could it be a blood sugar crash? That’s possible. I did exert myself an unusual amount when I got my groceries earlier.
And by “unusual” I mean “more than my usual sluglike pace”.
I ordered more stuff from Sav-On today in order to try to compensate for how almost none of the desserts I ordered Sunday night showed up.
So on a whim, I ordered a ton of stuff, mostly of the sugar free ice cream category, plus my usual sugar free Voortman cookies.
I now have a freezer full of two cartons of Chapman’s sugar free ice cream, one vanilla and one butterscotch ripple, plus a box of Chapman’s sugar free ice cream sandwiches and Chapman’s sugar free cones.
Have I mentioned how much I love the people at Chapman’s lately? They got us diabetic folk’s back on the whole frozen treats front.
I was surprised that all the frozen stuff I ordered actually showed up. I’ve ordered it before and it never made it. It was always “out of stock”.
Meaning the shopper didn’t want the hassle of dealing with frozen stuff and the time pressures they entail. In my opinion.
But I got them this time!
Oh, and the shoe dropped on the Mystery of the Seventh earlier.
Turns out it was surgeon who will be fixing my hernia with whom I had an appointment today. Luckily, he called me and we did the consult over the phone.
His office will call to make an in-person appointment soon. Spiffy.
I need to put my appointments into a calendar app, methinks. I have notes on a bunch of appointments in my Google Keep notepad but that is not the proper display mode for this type of data at all.
So says the sad robot boy in my head. If I really thought about it, I could probably come up with a more human way to express that.
But fuck it. I’m a robot, world. Deal with it.
I feel so tired lately. Definitely the number one thing I want to talk to my GP about when he calls at 1 pm tomorrow.
Can’t remember what my original intent when I made the appointment was. Could have been so many things. Oh well, it won’t go to waste.
If I keep getting weaker, I am going to become one of those scooter bound fat dudes.
And I really do not want that. It sucks on so many levels.
But I might be too weak to prevent it.
Wouldn’t that be a bitch.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.