for me right now. Fridays are evaluation days, where I think about how well I did this week, whether I accomplished anything meaningful, whether my definition of meaningful is pathetic in relation to the real world where actual functional people live.
I went to the Dr and got a physical, sent away fluids for testing. Got a referral to a neurologist. Had an appointment with my old therapist. I walked the dog most days. I slept at night and was awake during the day. I think I even showered once or twice.
it kinda goes downhill from there.
Today a lot of things are broken, -important things that could affect some long term stuff for me. Parts of WordPress, which is why this post and the preceding one have no tags and thus probably won’t be read by anyone. I’ve been told directly that some things I was planning to do that I thought would help are pointless. Other things I tried to do to have some senso of progress somewhere were stymied by software incompatibility or other, unknown factors.
I haven’t been in any relationship long enough in the past 8 months to call anyone for help. I could call a crisis line, but I always feel like i’m wasting resources because the first answer to the first question is always no. (are you feeling suicidal or homicidal – or variations on that theme)
I even know i’m savior seeking (in that secular, codependent way) trying to get someone to hold my hand (and spoon-feed me lessons in how to live a real life) like I’m 4 years old instead of 34. i’m avoiding challenge, responsibility, and all that stuff. This post is a pathetic, dramatic, adolescent cry for help from a feeling-sorry-for-myself chronic learned-mental-helplessness self-victim. So is the preceding post.
i suck. everything sucks. i don’t care enough to actually make the effort to change. Apparently my brain has decided that i’m here to be a warning to others, locked in self-generated misery and self-pity for the rest of my life, because I’m too smart to kill myself but not smart enough to fix myself. maybe i mean stubborn. maybe i mean scared. who cares. not me.
I should eat something
I should be more social
I should try to make friends
I should get a therapist i can see more often.
I should get a job coach.
I should meditate, do yoga, do aerobic exercise more often.
I should actually write word one for those sites i signed up for in (April? May?)
i should stop feeling sorry for my overpriviliged, middle-class, food-secure, first-world brain problems. that’s what my therapy has been boiling down to.
T: “You have to set goals, believe in long-term rewards, put off instant gratification in favor of planning for your future. you have to decide to believe in yourself.”
Me: “But I don’t have any, any visualization i can make is wrong anyway, I don’t beleive in them, nothing long term is rewarding enough. I don’t.
T: “Well, you just have to”
Me: “I don’t. What now?”
T: “Maybe you’re bipolar instead of depressed, have you ever been manic?”
Me: “You mean had lots of energy and felt good and accomplished things? No.”