i only slept for nine hours or so today, which seems like a marked improvement over the previous week. i still feel utterly lethargic, at the moment, but that’s to be expected with the amount of mental and physical atrophy i’ve went through by just vegetating for such a long of time.
for one, i think i’m at peace with my decisions and plans laid out in the previous entry, compared to prior attempts to have an intervention with myself. usually, i find one excuse to not do something in some contrived list of “must do or else” style lists i’ll conjure up for myself, and that snowballs into me just abandoning the entire thing within days.
this isn’t a concrete list, for once. there’s no tendrils snapping at me to do exactly thisthisthisthisorelse. there’s therapy and going home, and the rest is open-ended. as long as i commit to the first and accomplish the second, i think some actual tangible progress can be made.
i’m still certainly in the throes of all this now; waking up was a fervent worry of “oh god i hope no one told my mom” and “i probably look like a buffoon” but thankfully, i had but one small positive message about things, and a call from mom that was unrelated to anything (“are you coming home for thanksgiving?”)
i just would prefer to actually go face-to-face with my parents when i say, hey, yeah, i’m kinda sorta broken. and to be honest, i have the type of parents where mom will probably roll her eyes at me and my dad will chastise me for being soft, but, i dunno, i still feel like they deserve to know where i’m at in my head. if shit…well, goes sour, i don’t want everything to be a surprise, if that makes sense at all.
i’m home alone for pretty much the entire day, and instead of watching football and accomplishing nothing, i’ve decided to dust off the exercise bike (literally) and either listen to some music and ride for an hour, or download some videos or audiobooks about dealing with anxiety and give them a whirl. i foolishly have always thought that i am somehow “unable to be coerced” by those sort of things (probably because paranoid parrot me thinks they’re scams or moneypits) but i think it’s probably time to at least give them a foothold and see if they stick. headspace may be the direction i go with it; the last time i used that, back when i lived in the south, it worked…some of the time. there are certainly times i don’t want to be in my own head, and those times i would meditate felt like i was trapped with a serial killer, versus alone with my thoughts.
but even just switching out my typical sunday bullshit for something with a bit of heft feels like a start of something positive. and i’ve done this before (and before, and before) and then gave it up, just like most great plans fail. but i haven’t actually written about said plans as or before i do them in ages, and being able to do so (and having the eyes of both friends and random passerby both) gives me this galvanization that i’m actually doing the right thing, somehow.
it’s baby steps, dammit.
EDIT: have an appointment with my general practitioner on tuesday to schedule therapy. did twenty minutes on the bike before i got winded, because the last week has made basically made even walking up and down the stairs difficult.
unfortunately, my anxiety flared right back up. here’s a basic example from just now, for those of you reading this going, how the fuck is your life of couch dwelling and sleep so anxiety-filled?
girlfriend goes to parents, tells me she’ll grab dinner when she comes back.
girlfriend runs about 90 minutes later than expected, asks me what i want for dinner.
my brain, because she ran late, cannot function to make a choice for food because now it’s “so late that it will be difficult to get food from anywhere” and instead i just say “i don’t know and can’t make a decision” then ghost for thirty minutes.
read that last sentence and try not to think, holy shit, that’s pathetic, man.
and after the episode, yup, i agree with you, that shit is pathetic, man.
yet…when it’s actually happening? i feel like my subconcious is in a vacuum while my actual physical and mental self are operating without me, just going through the motions at 10% power while i scream into the void from my little vacuum.
i’m sure when i’ve been out at bars in town, at poker games, back home, there have been plenty of times i just kinda float there, zone out, look deadeyed, etc.
i’m in that vacuum right then, and trust me when i say that i’m fucking terrified, whether or not i can actually express it.
at least now that it’s passed i can actually describe it. and i don’t think i’ve ever consciously described it to, well, anyone. i just tell people “i’m in a mood” or gloss over what’s actually happening. but, yeah.
vacuums, man. fuck ‘em.
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