Re-iteration of a lesson learned
Feb. 9th, 2002 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnpalmerI'd like to be dead, I was thinking. No more having to worry, no more having to hurt. No more having to plod through life.
What mattered? Nothing really. What hope was there? None. Did I ever think life would change for the better?
Weren't all of my dreams of being 'special' doomed to failed frustration? Let's face it... what do I really *DO*? What the hell makes me worthwhile? The fact of the matter is, I'm an overweight, undisciplined, 35 year old man with nothing to recommend me to me, let alone anyone else. God damn it, I'm so *TIRED*....
Tired.
Tired = depressed. The equation that can be said to define my life. (Now, is there a way to program "tired" alarms to go off before "worthless" alarms?
I started with 20mg Adderall.
Then, I probably shouldn't have, but parlayed 'depression treatment' into a 'no worries' meal at Wendy's. I threw away some of the french fries (they weren't good... and I noticed... and knew I had to eat a couple more, but then could say "I don't need this" and put them away. (Good thing, too... I bought some "Sea Salt and Vinegar" potato chips, my current favorite. I don't need extra calories on top of those.)
(remainder, slightly more upbeat bits placed after a cut-line...)
Okay, I didn't get doctors lined up like I should have... I didn't work on my programming as much as I wanted.
But I'm not worthless for having sent a friend a possibly distressing request for professional advice, though I think I'll explain the circumstances to her a bit better. It's not hopeless to decide whether I want to work on programming, or writing, full time... I don't have to assume I'll fail at one or the other. I'm not any less an empath for having thought of a post-op as "a man who's now a woman", nor am I stupid for not having suddenly caught the "it's just plain *WRONG*... not the body, it'd be a fine body on (another gender), but it's not *MINE*." idea of transgendered folks.
(If that's not enough to explain it, think of waking up tomorrow, sleepily getting into the shower, reaching down and - *ACK*! The wrong genitalia! I still don't "get" it. I also don't "get" why I'm into painful spankings that I don't enjoy, but still fantasize about before and after the fact. I don't have to 'get' it... I can work with it. I used to worry more about not "getting" trans-folk, and not being able to see why it was more natural to change the external body than to try to work from the inside. Understand, I *NEVER* thought "Sexual Reassignment Surgery was wrong". I just couldn't have debated "SRS is an important medical treatment, and should be paid for by insurance" with any feeling. Now I can.)
If there's no purpose, and no reason, then it doesn't matter if I'm failure. If there *IS* a purpose, and a reason, then I'm here for a reason, and I'm going to find it and accomplish it, somehow.
I'm a little edgy; I think it's too much Adderall (my last dose was 20mg, also), but better that than tired.
Now all I have to do is contemplate "how to live with tired" in case I ever need to for a short time.
What mattered? Nothing really. What hope was there? None. Did I ever think life would change for the better?
Weren't all of my dreams of being 'special' doomed to failed frustration? Let's face it... what do I really *DO*? What the hell makes me worthwhile? The fact of the matter is, I'm an overweight, undisciplined, 35 year old man with nothing to recommend me to me, let alone anyone else. God damn it, I'm so *TIRED*....
Tired.
Tired = depressed. The equation that can be said to define my life. (Now, is there a way to program "tired" alarms to go off before "worthless" alarms?
I started with 20mg Adderall.
Then, I probably shouldn't have, but parlayed 'depression treatment' into a 'no worries' meal at Wendy's. I threw away some of the french fries (they weren't good... and I noticed... and knew I had to eat a couple more, but then could say "I don't need this" and put them away. (Good thing, too... I bought some "Sea Salt and Vinegar" potato chips, my current favorite. I don't need extra calories on top of those.)
(remainder, slightly more upbeat bits placed after a cut-line...)
Okay, I didn't get doctors lined up like I should have... I didn't work on my programming as much as I wanted.
But I'm not worthless for having sent a friend a possibly distressing request for professional advice, though I think I'll explain the circumstances to her a bit better. It's not hopeless to decide whether I want to work on programming, or writing, full time... I don't have to assume I'll fail at one or the other. I'm not any less an empath for having thought of a post-op as "a man who's now a woman", nor am I stupid for not having suddenly caught the "it's just plain *WRONG*... not the body, it'd be a fine body on (another gender), but it's not *MINE*." idea of transgendered folks.
(If that's not enough to explain it, think of waking up tomorrow, sleepily getting into the shower, reaching down and - *ACK*! The wrong genitalia! I still don't "get" it. I also don't "get" why I'm into painful spankings that I don't enjoy, but still fantasize about before and after the fact. I don't have to 'get' it... I can work with it. I used to worry more about not "getting" trans-folk, and not being able to see why it was more natural to change the external body than to try to work from the inside. Understand, I *NEVER* thought "Sexual Reassignment Surgery was wrong". I just couldn't have debated "SRS is an important medical treatment, and should be paid for by insurance" with any feeling. Now I can.)
If there's no purpose, and no reason, then it doesn't matter if I'm failure. If there *IS* a purpose, and a reason, then I'm here for a reason, and I'm going to find it and accomplish it, somehow.
I'm a little edgy; I think it's too much Adderall (my last dose was 20mg, also), but better that than tired.
Now all I have to do is contemplate "how to live with tired" in case I ever need to for a short time.
