It’s time. Time to get busy living, or get busy dying… so, for better or worse, today is the day. My life’s hit a stand still, for the most part, and I’m tired of fucking floundering. I am going to make my best effort to get on with the business of living. I’ll throw everything I have into it. Everything I have left… and, if I can’t bring myself to be the least bit productive, to do what needs to be done, or to say what needs to be said, then, I’m pretty much worthless and useless, anyway. So, if I fail to busy myself with this whole life and reality deal, I guess I will stop kidding myself and get on with the business of dying. Probably not instantly – I’ve usually gone in for installment plans, when it comes to death. I’ve only made a couple mad dashes for the finish line, and obviously, since I am here, neither was a success story (well, I guess that’s a matter of perpective.)
The pic attached to this entry is another one from the Dominatrix photo shoot. I felt good about that shoot. If I could apply that kind of energy and creativity to the rest of my life, I’d be golden. But, instead, I wind up feeling so lost and helpless that I disgust myself. The simplest problems can overwhelm me. I have panic attacks when I can’t find my keys or my cell phone. There are so many important things to say (to people I care about) that I can’t begin to give voice. I know I need help, but I don’t know who could help or how. Other than giving me a hand with my housework, which I am pretty much drowning in – and people do offer, but no one really has the time. Mags helped out one day, and that was awesome, but this place is such an undertaking. I feel like I never gain any ground.
My body is still shaky from the episode I had earlier this week. My stomach is not yet normal, and I have to be very careful about what I eat, any physical strain, and my stress level. The day after I was in the hospital, I felt so dizzy I almost fell down the stairs. And, for those who asked, those terrible episodes last about twelve hours – it only stops hurting when they pretty much knock me out with ativan and zofran. I need to see my doctors. I should’ve called the shrink today. So much to do… need to fill out paperwork for SSI (my case review), do some homework for my shrink (and get him the info on my primary care doc), and I should call Dr, Elton (GI doc). I get so anxious about making phone calls . It’s very hard for me. Like checking the mail…
I know how to do any number of things that I need to do. I just can’t order my thoughts, or find the will to proceed. And, with some things, I just don’t know where to start.
I just have to start chipping away, and seeing progress, or I am just going to wind up giving up. If I can’t do anything more than hold on, then I am just going to let go. I know, some days that has to be enough, but it can’t be enough every day. It just can’t be.
I loathe and resent so much about myself. I am an adulterer, a nut, an addict (a heroin addict, no less), unable to take care of myself, uncertain of everything (the future, where I am supposed to be, what I am supposed to be doing, and how I am supposed to be doing it – yes, I mean EVERYTHING). I don’t want to taunt myself with possibilities. I feel like a failure, and I haven’t even really tried, yet.
I feel alone and uncertain, right now. I don’t know what to do with myself.