No One Likes Admitting When They’re Wrong

I’m including myself when I say that. My last post was concerning the coronavirus and how it has all been hyped much like several other things in my lifetime such as H1N1, Y2K, etc. so I decided I wasn’t going to take it seriously. The more I read about it and watch the news, the more I realize that I was wrong to not take this seriously. Precautions do need to be made when going out. I do wear a mask if I go into public although I hardly ever do. I kind of like wearing a mask when going into public if I’m being honest. As someone who has never liked the way he looks, wearing a mask in public make me feel more comfortable being at home.

I’m having to have my therapy sessions done via video calls for the time being. I had my first one last week, and my psychiatrist asked how I’m dealing with everything going on right now. I told her I’m being cautious, but not paranoid. I wash my hands and wear gloves and a mask when I go out, but I’m not digging a hole in the yard to build a bunker or anything. If the end of the world happens then I’d like to just sit on my front porch, sipping some whiskey, smoking a cigarette, and watching it happen.

I was talking with one of my best friend’s girlfriends about the whole ordeal a few weeks ago and we discussed that something like this was bound to happen eventually. The planet doesn’t want us here anymore so maybe we should just pack our shit and call it a day. I may sound like a fatalist when I say that, but it’s how I feel. No matter what we do in regards to this pandemic, it’s going to do whatever it wants and I don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop it … at least not anytime soon. What do I recommend? Just buckle up and ride it out.

I gave up on my hopes and dreams a little over a year ago. I don’t strive for anything anymore. I’m just defeated. Maybe this pandemic is just what we need.

Everyone disappears, no matter who loves them.

Be Afraid and Buy Shit

It appears I haven’t written in a while. It’s hard to write about anything when you don’t even want to get out of bed most days, but I’ve gradually pulled myself back up out of the pit that I was in for months. I’m not fully out of the funk, but things are getting better. I’m trying to make the best of each day. I have my good days and bad, highs and lows. My psychiatrist increased my meds, but my insurance won’t pay for the increase so the doctor gave me free samples of the increased dosage. The intrusive thoughts aren’t as prominent as they once were. You’d think they’d be worse what with the whole COVID-19 bullshit going on and all. That’s actually why I came on here to talk to whomever reads this damned thing.

It seems that things are getting worse and worse if you listen to the news. That’s all they want to talk about. Is nothing else going on in the world? I suppose school shooters are on vacation because they realize they won’t be getting any attention any time soon. I’m not saying I’d rather kids go back to shooting up schools. I’m saying we have a new scare tactic to focus on to remind people that the world is a dangerous place and they need to go out and buy stuff to keep the economy going. Buy, buy, buy; spend, spend, spend.

Every so often we go through something like this. Some pandemic happens and it’s all the media can focus on to keep the masses afraid. Give it a few months and it’ll blow over, we’ll have another election, and in another four years we’ll have something else to fear so we can elect some other incompetent putz who claims they’re going to save the day.

There’s no setting people’s minds at ease. It’s much easier to keep them afraid so they continue to spend their hard earned money on shit that’s not going to work. Money fixes everything in America. Am I right? I thought I was going to have more to say about this, but I’m sick of hearing about it, which means I’m already sick of writing about it. Forget everything I’ve said, hunker down in your bomb shelters, shut out the world, wait for everything to die around you, and the living will let you know when it’s safe to come back out and continue being good little consumers.

Don’t Let Me Get Old

I went with my mom to visit my grandmother in the nursing home today. I try to go with her whenever she says she’s going and asks if I’d care to join her. Lately I haven’t been up for doing much of anything since the depression has gotten bad and has lasted a lot longer than usual. I managed to go tonight, though. I watched as my grandmother said grace a total of six times, forgetting she had already said it time and time again. I watched as she talked to the baby doll my mom brought her as though it was an actual human being. I watched as she talked to people in her life who are long dead. I watched her jabber on about nothing at all, not making any sense whatsoever.

I also looked around the dining hall where a lot of the other patients go to have their meals. Some of them can still feed themselves. Others need help. A handful of others can’t communicate at all and are all but vegetables sitting in their chairs. It makes me wonder what they’re holding onto and why life allows them to keep going. It also made me think, “I hope I’m dead before I ever reach that point in my life.”

I’m reminded of a joke by Bill Hicks when he was talking about people reminding him how bad smoking is for you. “People say quitting smoking will prolong your life. They don’t tell you if a prolonged life is a good thing. I haven’t read the statistics on that one.” Why do people want to live forever? My grandmother is 91 and has no idea who she is, where she is, who anyone is. I don’t want to be trapped in my own mind, having to be fed by others, having others give me a shower, having others wipe my ass for me. If I get to that point I hope I have enough of my mind left to put myself out of my own misery.

I have tried taking better care of myself as of late. I stepped on the scale recently and noticed I am down 40 pounds, which I am proud of myself for getting there, but I still have a ways to go. I know I’m not going to live forever and I don’t want to. I struggle with wanting to stick around a lot, though. I dread waking up most days. I have thoughts of suicide race through my mind constantly, but I try to shake them off. I’m not quite ready to leave just yet. If you ask me tomorrow then I may tell you something completely different.

I don’t know what I want from one day to the next. I just know that I don’t want to be like those I see in the nursing home. I don’t want to have to be fed, bathed, and clothed by others. If that ever happens then I may just pay someone to “accidentally” forget about the air bubbles in my IV.

How Can This Mean Anything to Me…

… if I really don’t feel anything at all?

It’ll be a couple of months before I see my psychiatrist again. I’m wondering if I should make an appointment because as of late I’ve just been having this overwhelming feeling of apathy. I looked up what I was feeling and it seems that I’m struggling with what is called “anhedonia.” Most people think depression is just moping around, feeling like Eeyore, but this is something different. It’s just a complete and total lack of enjoyment.

As I may have mentioned or hinted at in my last post, I have always loved reading, but right now I can’t sit still long enough to read. I used to love going for walks. I’ve mentioned that I can’t drive anymore, but I would still enjoy going for rides to town or taking a trip to a friend’s house. Not anymore. I just want to feel some kind of pleasure. Hell, if I’m being totally honest, masturbation isn’t even fun anymore.

Life has just become banal. I hate waking up. I hate getting online and checking in with friends. I hate going out to try to meet new friends. I used to go to the bar to chit-chat with the bartenders and others, but I don’t want to do that anymore, either. On top of the depression I don’t feel anything but boredom and ennui.

I wake up and step outside and see the world around me and just think “Fuck. There’s absolutely nothing to look forward to today. I’m going to do absolutely nothing except go back inside, maybe eat something, and I’m going right back to bed.” I feel bad for my dogs, honestly. I know they want to go and do and go for a walk and I have to muster up enough energy to take them for their walk. That’s one thing that bothers me the most. I’m unable to take my dogs for their walk so I know they’re getting bored, but they also don’t understand that I’m just not feeling up to it.

I’d let them run loose if I could, but one doesn’t get along with other dogs and I fear she’s going to attack someone’s dog as they are taking it for a walk. I pretty much just walk mine to keep one of them under control so there’s no lawsuit involved. I get awakened by them in the morning and I just think, “Leave me alone. You don’t understand. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to leave this bed. Just let me sleep until tomorrow, let me sleep until the day after tomorrow and the day after that.”

All I want is sleep. My dreams are more fun than my reality. I had a dream last night that I was flying. That dream was interrupted by the dogs wanting to go out, but it was too dark for me to walk them and I didn’t want to let them roam free because who knows when they would come back? I feel like I’ve posted about this before, but I can’t keep track of anything. I’m having deja vu right now. I guess that happens when every day is exactly the same as the last.

Sometimes showering is a chore. It sounds gross, but I go for a few days without showering and have to muster up enough energy to turn the fucking shower on in the first place. Things that used to make me laugh no longer do: funny movies, stand-up comedians, memes, etc. None of them do me any good and I hate it.

Music doesn’t even hold the same effect as it once did. I’m tired of listening to music. I’ve heard it all before. I have a couple of concerts coming up that I’ll be attending and I’m worried that I’m going to feel this way when the concert date arrives.

Fuck it. I’m going to go smoke pot to escape what I’m feeling (or in this case not feeling) right now.

some

Boredom’s Not a Burden Anyone Should Bear

I wake up every day just like everyone else does that hasn’t passed away the night before, but here recently I’ve done nothing but wake up stressed and anxious. I go to bed stressed and anxious. I have had to take my anxiety meds more and more as of late, which I don’t like. I feel like my skin is crawling most days. I feel like crawling out of my skin. I can’t sit still, I toss and turn in bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. When I do find a position that’s comfortable it doesn’t last long. I have to switch from my left side to my right and then I’m on my back once again with my hands over my chest, fingers interlocked. I was told by a friend of mine when we shared a hotel room together one night that I look like a corpse when I sleep. At least the dead sleep soundly.

New Year’s Eve was an enjoyable night for me. I got to spend it with friends I don’t get to see very often. However, I’m unable to stay up as late as I once was. I think I finally crashed on my friends’ couch around two in the morning. I remember the times before when I was able to stay awake, drink, smoke pot, and talk about virtually anything until nearly six in the morning. Two in the morning is late for me now. I find myself going to bed around 8pm or so these days, sometimes even sooner than that. I’m not even tired when I go to bed. I just have nothing else to do.

I have new books to read to keep me busy right now. I am able to get through several pages some days and others I can’t finish a paragraph before that feeling of wanting to break out of my skin happens once more. I don’t want to be dependent on meds, but they’re the only way I’m able to feel some sense of normalcy. I’m stuck between wanting to do something and wanting to do nothing at all.

Why aren’t we able to just sit and be bored? Why can’t I just lie in bed and be happy that there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, no obligations to meet? It’s hard for me to go out anymore. I just can’t bring myself to be around other people. New Year’s Eve was an exception. I had a great time with my friends, but there was still that part of me beforehand that was wondering if I was going to change my mind and just stay home and ring in the new year in a slumber. I’m wondering if my meds need to be changed again, but my psychiatrist said she doesn’t like to switch or alter meds during the holiday season. Who knows? Maybe if she went against what she likes doing with her patients then I’d be OK right now.

Then again, maybe I’ll never be OK. The suicidal thoughts aren’t as bad as they once were, but they’re still there. They happen mostly at night, but not always. Sometimes during the day since it’s just me here with nothing to occupy my time and the anxiety that hits me out of nowhere that I just want an out. Yet I press on. I think I’ll press on right now by taking a nap.

Fuck. I’ve only been awake for four hours and I’m already wanting a nap and fantasizing even more about tonight when I get to sleep for 10-12 long hours only to repeat the entire routine all over again the next day.

It’s a Sorry World

I took the title of this blog from a song by a comedian I always liked: Tim Wilson. The opening lyrics are as follows:

You can go to war when you’re 18,

But you can’t buy a beer.

You can launch missiles from a submarine,

But you can’t buy a pistol here.

You can breathe chemical weapon fumes,

But they don’t want you to smoke.

So if you’re shooting up a bar in Baghdad,

Don’t order a rum and Coke.

I spent the new year with some near and dear friends as I do every year. We talked about things normal people talk about: funny shit from the past that we did, religion, how much everyone and everything sucks, politics, etc. I was not aware that a federal law had been passed that bans the sale of tobacco products to anyone under the age of 21. Since when did the Republicans start meddling in state affairs? I thought they were the party completely and totally against that. I guess it just goes to show you that Carlin was right. This country was bought and paid for a long time ago by people with deep pockets. None of them give a shit about you or your rights. They believe in taking your money and telling you what to do.

I’m a firm believer in being able to do as one wishes as long as you’re not hurting another human being. If you want to smoke, drink, do drugs then that’s all fine and good with me as long as you’re not inconveniencing someone else or causing them any physical harm. I’m sure you’re harming those around you who care about you, but that’s a post for another day (another day where I’m probably not going to feel like writing.)

You now have to sign up for the draft at 18, you can buy a gun at 18, you can go and fight in a war you don’t believe in, kill others in different countries, and bomb the shit out of said countries all you want … just don’t you go thinking you can come back home after doing all of that and enjoying a smooth cigarette or a delicious beer. You can kill people by the dozens, but you’re way too irresponsible and immature to handle your alcohol and tobacco.

Welcome to America. You are free to do as they tell you.

Anti-Natalism Chronicles XIV: A Return

It’s going to be hard to type this since I’m on a different computer since my Mac is being serviced at the moment so sorry for any mistakes. It’s a bitch getting used to a different keyboard when you’ve used the same one for three years now. I wanted to talk once again about anti-natalism since that’s mostly what my blog is about and one of my main beliefs as a person.

I was sitting outside just now, having my morning coffee when I started thinking about my last relationship and how it ended because she brought up the fact that she wanted children one day. We had known each other for seven years. We dated for two of those seven years. She knew how I felt about having children and at one point said she didn’t want any, either. Out of the blue one night as we were lying in bed together she said she thinks she may want them one day. “Well, you know how I feel about that. Besides, you know I’ve gotten a vasectomy so it’s kind of a done deal for me.”

No harsh words were spoken or exchanged. We didn’t argue. We just kind of decided that this was one area where we weren’t going to be able to reach a compromise. There is no compromising when it comes to children. You either want them or you don’t and I don’t.

I had always joked that every girl from my hometown was born pregnant because they either had a baby by high school (middle school in some cases) or it was the first thing that happened after high school. Practically everyone I know now has at least one child so that sucks for me as far as dating is concerned. It’s just one of those things that’s a definitive “no” for me. Kind of like anal is a definitive “no” for a lot of women. Hey, you don’t do butt stuff. I don’t like kids. I respect your decision to not do butt stuff. Respect my decision to not have children.

I don’t think I’d make a good dad anyway. It’s not like I had a positive influence in the dad department growing up so who’s to say I wouldn’t be an asshole just like my father was? I’ve also got the mental and physical health issues going on so why would I risk bringing a child into the world with said issues? That’s something I’ve never understood about people who have mental issues, emotional issues, health issues, etc. that are genetic.  If they’re genetic and you know you risk passing them onto your offspring then why do you go ahead with having your own offspring? Kind of a dick move on your part.

Maybe I have more compassion than others or I give myself credit for. I don’t want to bring any children into a world such as this one; a world plagued by violence, climate change, disease, and a number of other things that could go wrong and do go wrong on a daily basis. I see commercials for hospitals for children with cancer and just think to myself if only their parents didn’t have them at all then those children wouldn’t be going through what they’re going through right now.

We all want suffering to end so shouldn’t we be stopping it before it begins? There’s no suffering in non-existence. I’ve never once met a person who didn’t exist that had cancer. I’ve never once met a person who didn’t exist that got murdered for no reason at all. Call it a coincidence if you want, but I think there’s something more to my theory here.

If you already have children then by all means, love them with every fiber of your being and take care of them to the best of your ability.

If you don’t have children then do what’s best for the children you don’t have and leave them be in whatever dimension there is before birth. All that comes with existence is suffering and eventual death and heartbreak.