This blog started as a place to tuck away half formed thoughtfeelings whenever I felt overwhelmed.
Nearly fifteen years later, the body still retains the same habit
Of cascading shut down. Surrendering thought by thought all in the span of an hour.
Catching myself in a bed or floor. Somewhere I can dissolve. And funnel my thought around the uncomfortable inclination towards an end.
Like a habitual hypnosis.
It largely makes me upset I can still feel like this.
Lulled by the fantasy of a knife. Or at the very least banging my head against a wall.
The center has held for years it seems.
Maybe I’m just being too hard on myself. Bias to the narrative of stability in maturity. I’ve just spun out less.
We still wobble.
.
I think I’m just frustrated. Suffocated. Tired.
The last year has been a whirlwind for my tiny life.
Moving to a new city. Starting a new job after federal pay offs.
The real kicker is being diagnosed with heart failure.
Scary words.
The actual diagnosis is non ischemic heart failure with a mildly reduced ejection fraction and dilated cardiomyopathy.
Relative to the other patients in the waiting room, I don’t have it bad.
But they’re also at least twice my age.
The cardiologists seem positive im well on a path back to functionally normal. If anything, they seem more bothered by my insistent worrying.
Can you blame me?
At least a few times a day I go through the process of scanning my body to affirm myself that I’m not experiencing a heart attack or stroke.
The smell of burnt toast.
A tight chest muscle.
This everyday fear is evidence that I want to live.
The angst of harboring morbid defeat is too.
It just sucks.
.
This evening I’m lamenting.
My partner wants me to throw away a large piece of canvas I picked up off the street. I originally planned to clean it up to make something original. But I haven’t had the energy, clarity, or motivation (external or internal) to make something of it.
In the same way, I feel like I’m not making anything of myself.
It’d be easy to blame this on being 30. On adulthood.
But that’s not the person or life I want to adopt.
That’s a total bummer.
.
I haven’t really shared much of anything with people lately. Words feel insufficient. For a frustrating reason too.
My medication give me terrible brain fog. I jumble words up more often. My recall has worsened. I hate it. I’m alive and my health is improving, but man do I feel like a shell.
.
Ok that’s it. I feel better putting my vague feelings to words. My body feels less like a sloshing pool of hot water. I kinda don’t want to eat as punishment for…. Idk existing. But that feeling will pass in 30 minutes.
