August 24th

 Another day, another experience.

Felt better today. Less ill. Less like the dead being raised in the morning.

Curious how it waxes and wanes.

I had another chiro yesterday. I this time made it clear that I was not feeling well. He considered it. Wasn't sure. Not typical he said. He was then a lot more gentle with me.

Uh huh. And what about my condition is typical ? What in a post covid world is typical ?

They don't know. He certainly doesn't know. They stick to old patterns. And guess that it helps. Without evidence or study. Witchcraft at that point. Our collective knowledge is pitiful. We like to think we are advanced. A quick check in on medicine shows how not advanced we are.

I feel tired. Concentration is difficult. Work is difficult.

I can feel every bit of me crying out for a rest. Peace. No demands. Process. Heal. Grieve.

I don't know.

This evening I was noodling around.

And I caught sight of "Pooch Cream". A salve for dogs. I bought it a week before Ares last day. For Ares. Used it maybe three times. I caught sight of it. And that cascade of thoughts went off in my head. I bought it for Ares. He didn't need it now. I tried. Failed. He was gone.

And an enormous wave of sadness swamped me. Out of nowhere. I held it together. For a while. But that tiny pot of salve seemed to encompass so much. The hope. And then the loss. The emptiness.

More tears. More sadness. More pain.

In many ways I am firmly on autopilot now. Playing at being a person. Perhaps it will stick. I don't know. Other times. I can feel something in me has died. It's not just Ares. He's more of a catalyst for all the rest of the shit that was always there. The devastating final blow perhaps.

There's definitely a split. The autopilot bit. A veneer. And then the deeper bit. Me. The bulk of me. The veneer carries on. The bulk of me has sunk. Quiet. All plans stopped. All theories and projections and simulations stopped - apart from the odd one about ending it all. Switched off. I haven't been this quiet... ever. The autopilot has picked up bits and pieces I was formerly doing. Or had an interest in. An autopilot without a master completing the tasks that it has found in the trash. Perhaps this is normal. Is this how most people are ? Maybe that's been my problem. Sometimes I think it would be ok just to live on autopilot. It seems .. less painful.

Andy asked me today if I wanted to talk moving at the weekend. Look for houses. No I said. I needed time to process. I didn't say that that part of me had sunk into a silent depth. That I was on autopilot.

Where once I was keen to move. To spend time with my family. Somewhat start over. Now. It doesn't seem to matter. None of it seems to matter. I will just sit here. And do nothing. And that's ok. Fade. That's ok.

Curious the way the mind works. The way I work. I am 99.9% sure I have slowly evolved into a tremendously detrimental thought pattern. Eh well. Fuck it eh.

On a more positive note. I took the girls out for a walk this morning. A couple of laps around the meadow and a swim. Athena couldn't get out of the river. The banks are steep and... she's not the youngster she used to be. But they enjoyed the walk. And I didn't flake out. As I do. I also reflected it was the first dog walk I had been on without Ares. Always a cloud to every silver lining eh ? I find myself also really super watching Athena now. Absorbing every second with her. Her quirks. Her uniqueness. Her boundless energy. I know what I am doing. I am measuring the loss when she goes. Cheery. But I'm also trying to inhale her very essence. Every bright moment. To not ever lose her. Tricky. I suspect. Her loss will be even more jarring than Ares. Oh boy.

As conversation would have it, I explained to a couple of friends last week the meticulous steps I had planned for my suicide. The hairs breadth I had go to carrying it out. The. Crazy. Obsessive thinking about it that comes with it. But before that meticulous plan I said I had considered asking one of them if they could get a gun. I figured he could. He confirmed that he could. I filed the information. I then planned the scenario around it. Behind me. Make it a surprise. But ask me if I am ready. I would look at the sky. Look at the green, the valley, the trees. A moment stretched. And then. Yes. I'm ready. Then nothing.

It feels like peace.

If I could end it today, peacefully, quietly. I would take that pill. And not think twice.

I'm not suicidal. Maybe that is suicidal ? I don't class that as suicidal. Suicidal to me is when you are compelled to do it. No choice. Fills your entire horizon. And the knife hovers at your wrist and bites. Perhaps my definitions are fucked.

I am not suicidal.

I am very much not enamoured with life nor have a reason to continue it. I am more than ok with it ending.

But not suicidal.

Maybe I just need that rest eh ?

Ha.

Ha ha ha.

Life, surely has to get better, right ?