Who am I fooling?
Myself, mostly. The last piece did the usual intellectual thing and talked about an approach without talking about approaching. What matters is getting close to life, not describing getting close. And right now I feel very far away.
Enough posts lately have catalogued my recent misfortunes; I won’t list them again. Besides, although I’m sure the hardships play into my feelings, they aren’t playing through my thoughts. So what’s causing this sense of detachment and sorrow?
Pain, first of all. Physical discomfort in my neck, left arm, and abdomen. Although I consider myself skilled at using meditation (and not medication) to manage my pain, there are limits. I’ve reached them.
Hopelessness, second of all. With the demise of the acupuncture practice came a great reduction in stress but also the loss of a meaningful project. Sure, I’m slowly preparing a WillSpirit upgrade, which gives me a new focus, but it doesn’t feel as rich and exciting as clinical work.
Acupuncture connected me in a person-to-person way with others. Now my only helping activity is right here on this inconspicuous blog. Although writing gives me some sense of making a difference, we are talking about action at a distance. There is none of the sweetness of treating patients hands-on. I miss that and realize such experience has probably passed from my life forever.
Then comes the fear. With no way of making a living, I’m at the mercy of my disability company and the greater economic system, both of which have proven horribly untrustworthy. This isn’t a new reality, but I can no longer imagine breaking free of it. I feel trapped as the future and old age bear down on me.
And loneliness. I do a poor job of maintaining social contacts. A promising friendship got nipped in the bud when the person in question moved to the opposite coast. Another friendship ended during my manic episode. I value my small social circle, but there’s no denying its narrow circumference. I’ll keep reaching out, but in this mood it’s difficult and it isn’t like I’m much fun to be around.
The mood will lighten eventually, of course, but for now the darkness is deepening. Based on past experience, I know the bleak emotions may get a lot worse before they dissipate. I no longer feel compelled to fix the situation with pills or rash action, but I still feel oppressed.
So for all my talk of behaviorism and acting rather than obsessing about thoughts and feelings (as in the last post), I feel pretty stuck. Yes, I’ll go through all the necessary motions today: an AA meeting, swimming, some errands, a doctor’s appointment. I’ll write this blog post. I’ll walk the dogs. I won’t just lie in bed and feel sad.
But curling up under blankets sounds tempting. I find myself asking how much longer life will last. Like a kid in the back seat of a car, I look forward to the end of this journey. That’s not a happy way to live, and I try to keep from focusing too much on that question, but it’s in the air. My air.
Ever since starting this blog I’ve tried to remain honest. Often it seems like my hard work has paid off and I feel a sense of mastery over my mental state; on those days I write accordingly. But today I feel lost and confused. I wonder if anything substantive has actually changed. Have I just been fooling myself?
>> Share on Facebook>> Tweet
