Right, so I’m a little toasted, a little buzzed, so it is possible that things seem like good ideas when they aren’t.
Three months into this major depressive episode, and I’ve reached the point that the part of my mind which adapted to pull me out is trying to do that. Getting those sort of hopeful thoughts that in the past I would have taken at face value. No more, it’s not getting away that easy. I only ever trusted others assuming that they could be decent, and that delusion is hard for me to go back to.
Some of the things I do are reminders for myself to come back later and realize; not doing well, objectively or in my own mind. I’m staying mostly high almost every day I can get away with it. This is a first for me, in my 30s I’m trying a technique that is much more common in teens and twenties. The issue, well for one I don’t want to become an addict. Treatment of addicts is awful, and then you have to take stuff that you used to have fun with is now off limits. No thanks to that. Supposedly I’m intended to be scared off by the damage it does to my body. Life damages the body, intoxicants merely limit your awareness of it.
See, the part I’m fighting right now is the opportunistic part of my personality, this is the thought;
This isn’t that bad, you get more input into your schedule and work than you ever have before, and the meaning or lack thereof is liberating such that you can walk when you want. You’d be hard pressed to find better.
The problem with that is that it’s bullshit. It’s a solid line of complacency because things could be worse. Things could always be worse, that’s the nature of decline. I don’t want to sit in the pot til it boils thinking “well at least they aren’t eating me yet.” (lobster metaphor, I’m big on metaphors.) So, to follow the metaphor, I either need to find an escape route for myself and my closely related lobsters, or I need to liberate all the lobsters. I definitely would love to do that, liberate the species, but what can you do when the species doesn’t want liberation? It is the heart of egoism to believe I better know what people need than they do. Also, I don’t know how obsessive the chef will be in trying to find myself and fam, so that escape could be a door to another cage. Rubber bands on my claws, I must be delicious when I’m frustrated, because that is the state I’m kept in.