Sickness

I have diabetes. Because I'm American, and it's in the vogue right now. One must always keep up with the fashions of the time. It's a very serious disease and one that I was exceptional about for a long time, but have gotten much worse about in the last few weeks. Last night I was quite sweet and if it hadn't been for an intuitive voice (thank you Goblins) telling me that the ice cream was a bad idea, I may have eaten myself into a coma last night.

Now there's an insidious quality to diabetes. Because as your blood gets more candylike one of the symptoms is depression. And as you get depressed you're more likely to try and go for stuff that bad for your diabetes. It becomes a lot easier to not care about taking care of yourself.

That's been one of my problems for years. I guess it's a lesson I am still learning. Taking care of myself. It's just that there's so much to be done. So many places to be, people to care about, words to write! I burn myself out because I just keep charging forward. I am apparently attempting to brute force my way though most things. The problem that I have somedays, today in particular,  it's very hard to find a reason to take care of myself.

What I do is I endure. I endure until the pain is greater then my capacity to handle it. Because of that? I have grown to have a huge capacity to endure pain. Physical, emotional, spiritual, mental, it's all there. I don't revel in it. I don't embrace it. I accept it as a fact of the thing and move forward. I can't say it's made me happy. But it has made me strong. And at the end of the day you've got to have at least one or the other. If you can't find or make happiness, then strive towards strength. You may not be happy but at least you will be strong. So I'll wrap myself in strength.

Though sometimes, even my strength fails. And when it does I fall. I wallow for a time in the pain and bitter madness that bubbles just below the surface. I'll hate and I'll rage and prod painfully at the rotten hole that grows in that wad of flesh that once held love. I'll drain the poison in time. Hell, I may even clean it out. And I'll go back to that beautifully empty state. With any luck.

Until then... I'll find something to rage against. Even if it's only myself. Hope? It turns to poison far to quickly for me. It's far too easily mistaken for false hope. Love? The kind of love that wakes me in the night with it's terrible lack? That... I'm not sure if it even exists. If it was all a fever dream made of false hope and wishful thinking. Disney promises of princesses and paladins making deep pus filled wounds on a mad man's mind. Empty tears and hollow promises. Drink deep of the bitter cup presented. Mix it with what little honey I can find and choke down the dread mixture. Learn to appreciate it. Find the balance to make it all worth it. Strive not for that which I can't have. Let go the echoes of yesterday that haunt me still. Will always haunt me.

So I write. I drain the poison from my body in the hopes that I can keep moving another day. That I can no more be drained by yesterday's wounds and tomorrow's unfulfilled promises.

But I shall strive on. Grow strong. Fight. For what? I don't know anymore. For the sake of fighting I suppose. But when you have no good reasons anyone will do. And I suppose it's a little better then doing it to spite those creatures that turned me away. Down that path lies no real joy. Only further spreading of pain. And the part of me that still loves them would not see them harmed.

I think that talking about this is helping. Embracing the apathy. Though I have many friends and family who love me dearly. It's the wrong kind of love for what I need. But I can't find that. So I'll strive on without it. Cause fuck it. What else is there to do?