Why bother titling these ramblings? Didn’t even know titling was a word lol. I guess there’s no need, it’s not as though you’re writing an essay. Yeah, true. Question is whether I should delete all the titles from my previous posts; maybe…
Another weekend ‘survived.’ Really did not enjoy Ikea on Saturday, though. Other than the parking, I didn’t feel much anxiety; that bloody lift though, that was awkward. I just felt really exposed, what with that stupid trolley and nobody seemingly knowing where to stand. Why do Homo sapiens feel the need to meander at minus five miles an hour, and just stand in the middle of the walkway like retards looking at the products? God it shits me. Get out the corridor, damn it!!!
I feel as though I’m dissolving. I’m not sure I’ve felt so listless – so aimless. The future is haunting me. I need to stop exercising so hard. I’ve had two very serious hypos of late. I know what I’m afraid of: getting old.
The insomnia’s in full swing at the minute. God the days are long when you can’t sleep. Too much time to think. Fear of the future. I feel as though I live in fear of that which hasn’t happened yet, and when the future becomes the past, my fears turn into shame. I didn’t realise just how ashamed I was until late. I’m so ashamed of myself – so inadequate.
That article on Avoidant Personality Disorder was very interesting. Described me to a T. Perhaps I need to get a re-diagnosis. It explains a lot, especially this feeling of inadequacy. What would it change though? Treatment’s still the same: CBT and pills.
I really should get back into ‘recovery.’ I’m just so sick it of though. I feel burned out. Sick of hearing about mental illness, trauma and recovery from addiction on the TV and radio. Soon they’ll be nobody healthy left in the media. Everybody’s got a disorder these days. All those crime dramas that have appeared with OCD detectives, and what not. I’d much rather ‘happy time’ on the TV. It’s great n all that we’re ‘talking about mental illness,’ but fuck me, I have to live with it 24/7, I don’t want to hear about it every five minutes!! Seriously though, I wish I had the drive, but I just don’t. What’s the point?! I lost hope long ago that I would ever overcome dysthymia and social phobia. I don’t know if I care much anymore. This is seemingly my lot. I don’t do too badly. I’ve got a lot of ‘positive’ things in my life. Perhaps I’m just greedy. Frightened of getting old, and it being too late to do stuff; just sitting regretting my life in some old people’s home slowly waiting for the Grim Reaper – great! ‘Live for today,’ ‘Enjoy the moment.’ Oh just fuck off, will you?!
I really should try to exercise a little less, though. I know I over do it. I just, well, I just worry about losing my fitness; and let’s face it, I don’t call it nature’s smack for nothing. My wife’s comment that she really doesn’t enjoy the cardio that I do because she doesn’t get a buzz out of it. I think she thinks I get some excellent high from it. In a way I do, I suppose; it’s more like being numbed, though. Wish I could get some of that anesthetic – propofol I think – that they gave me at the hospital. That was bliss. Like being dead, I imagine, just not permanently. Fucking weird. I don’t want to think about death before I go to bed. Think I’ll just let the dogs out and have a munch. Always worried there’s going to be somebody in the garden. I’m such a coward!
Aksenty Ivanovich Poprishchin.