Bleakness

I went to the gym today.  Hooray for me!  I’m managing a workout per fortnight.  An improvement.  Felt like death warmed over though.  And probably looked it.  My face looks kinda grey and it’s hard to stand up straight. 

God, I’m tired of this kind of life.  I have more bad days than good days, and even the good days are far from good, really.  And before I get clones of my granny telling me what I ought to do, I am doing what I can.  I’m taking the doctor’s medicine and doing visualisations daily.  I’ve had some people give me enough health recommendations to fill 26hrs a day.  That’s great, love.  You try doing all that with chronic fatigue and pain.  I’ll be pleased if I can cook a hot dinner twice a week.

Ah, I didn’t come here to whinge.  Okay, well I did, but not about that.  I’m feeling unfulfilled.  It seems my life is filled largely with survival and entertainment.  It’s not satisfying.  Sure, I could read more or watch a few more documentaries, but that’s not satisfying either.  It’s like another form of entertainment.  My life is lacking direction. 

I know healing is an important thing to pursue, but I’ve been feeling kinda blocked on it lately.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m getting anywhere with it.  I don’t know if it’s possible in my physical state, but sometimes I think it would be good to have something to do that involves others.  Something that benefits more than just myself. 

I’m feeling increasingly cut off from the world.  Especially when I see some of the serious incompatibilities between me and those around me.  The conservatism of my parents and grandmother.  Dave’s objectification of women.  And I hardly get to speak to Alexander any more.  He doesn’t have a phone and it seems his only access to a computer is after 2am my time.  And he is a very slow typist.  I miss chatting on the phone daily. 

I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore.  Nothing seems worthwhile.  You know, I’d planned for the last six months or so to get some channelling on this when I got really stuck.  But now I’ve gone and pissed off my intended channel with that stupid $4 postage fee thing.  How can I ask him for a pensioner’s discount now? 

I am so isolated by my lack of money.  If I was working, even part time, I’d just pay him the full $300/hr or so.  (That’s more than my weekly income now.)  I actually like being generous with my money when I can afford it.  I give money to buskers, pay all my taxes and buy people nice Christmas presents.  But right now, I’m saving up for a second pair of jeans.  That’s how bad it is. 

And I’m not in the mood to hear wealthy capitalists pontificate about how I should feel lucky to get even that much, or about how generous Australia is to the disabled.  I didn’t ask for this disease.  I never waived my right to human dignity.