Friday, October 28, 2016

Battlefield: depression?::: amended

So, after asking myself if I am fatigued and uncomfortable because of the MPN bone marrow circumstances, or just because I am infused with blues, I try to find even more answers.

I muster the energy to round up a garbage bag or two of rubbish and trash.   Then I say out loud,  "Oh great job, Dumbass.  World f'''ing class.  How in the hell did we end up here?"  We being the real me, plus the nagging insulting me.

"You got here because you are g'' d''' waste of space.  You are a rotten person.  Useless.  What makes you rotten is that you somehow, compulsively, lead others to believe you are not an idiot and not a terrible person.  But you are.

Or, maybe you are not really evil and rotten.   Maybe you just aren't quite up to some things normal people find a natural part of living.  You are abnormal and cannot help it.   As a result, here you are.  You pitiful loser."

I say all that and more.  I try to give myself a break.  It is becoming tougher and tougher to do.  And this honestly is why I do not own handguns, or even short shotguns.  I do not trust myself.

When you see yourself as the enemy and can't manage to change that, things go poorly.  It also seems like a bit of a personality split which used to land you in a rubber room.  Now, the only alternatives I know are less appropriate.  So, best not to give up.  Never give up.

You do not know how mad I get when I think about how certain others must view me.  I hate them because I love them.  If that makes sense.  I'm the one who is insane and alone, not them.  They are happily nuts and not alone.   Granted, I could not live that life in most cases.  Makes me even madder.

I want to tell them to wipe the damn smile off their faces.  Screw you for being happy.

There was once when I had it figured out how to turn it all around.  Guess what?  Too late.  Just when I was going to share the plan, I found I was already devoid of one to share it with.

The plan could have worked, but, as usual, I gave up and dove deep.

Sometimes the only thing is to find someone else to help or encourage or whatever.  Anything to get out of myself.  But they go on OK, and never look back.  And really, that is right.  I did it to get away from myself and because I like it when others catch a break of some kind.  Misery does not always want company. Another not universally true adage that pretends otherwise.   I want no one to feel this way, not even most jerks.

If you help the bleeding person by the side of the road, just be glad.  It doesn't mean you won't bleed out when it is your turn to be in that fix.   So, I will just get myself out of it.  Except I am not always convinced I can.

I keep thinking this JAK2 positive marrow issue is imaginary.  Then  various symptoms get out of hand.  Why the nausea, who knows. Or cares.  The mad pruritus (sort of like itch but different) is the real bummer.  It leaves you exhausted or tired, either from riding it out, or what you take to numb it down.

Well, I have had it.  I am too mad to give up.  And someday I will not be talking to myself.

This is what I hate about statists, they think everyone has the energy, money, and inclination to read and comply with government mandates, bizarre rules, paperwork of proving it is OK for you to exist.
I am bad at that stuff and I hate those who promote it.  Not good to hate, but at this minute, I do.

Alright, so I am going to get rid of this supposedly incurable nuisance, and I will go down fighting or possibly succeed for awhile.  Time will tell, I suppose.

***edited to add
The missing ingredient is faith.  I know that.   I don't have it in the way I once did, for awhile.  It needn't even be spiritual.  A person has to have something to drive them and give them purpose.  I've lost that.

That is the real enemy.  Faith that I deserve a purpose, and then having some driving force.  It is easier if you just believe religiously.  I do not, at least not like some people claim.  Of course I do not believe a lot of those people.  They use it as a back door to self aggrandizement.

There is more to life than meets the eye.  And more to human connection to things, I guess.  You probably have to have children before you see much spirit.  They are your ticket to at least semi-immortality.


1 comment:

  1. (Verbi here)

    "They use it as a back door to self aggrandizement." Yah, charlatans like Tipton, Creflo Dollar (his name is so a propos, it's hard to believe he really is called that, LOL!), the Bakers, etc. etc. But true faith isn't about s.a., quite the antithesis: "He must increase, but I must decrease."


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