Jun 14

 Yesterday amazingly, I had a good day. The GP bullshit did not affect me, and, gasp, I didn't feel ill all day.

Amazing.

Correspondingly, I felt good. Reached out and chatted to a few people I hadn't messaged in an age.

Today. Eh. Less good. Off. Slightly ill. A bit more bleh. But. Eh. Ok. Enough.

For some reason I can't remember, I found myself dwelling on Ares again today. Really bad.

My brain, blurs some of the details, refuses to give up crisp details of other things. And. Delightfully. Likes to invent new things to torment myself with.

I think it was the chocolate thing. I saw a picture from a vet surgery quite a while ago, where they had "Hershey Kisses", american (disgusting) chocolate drops. With the caption that all good boys should know what chocolate tastes like before they go. Basically. They'd feed a dog a chocolate treat before putting them down. ( You dont feed dogs chocolate normally, or at least, you shouldn't do, it's something they can't tolerate ).

This idea today skittered around Ares. Could have given him a chocolate treat. His last moments, indelibly etched into my brain then followed post haste. They will never not be super traumatic for me. And this time I added a new bit of imagination. Imagining listening to his heart as it stopped beating, my ear to his big chest. That was me. My fault. I made them stop his heart. I am a monster.

I'm not sure I can get across how amazingly toxically corrosive that whole thought pattern mindset is to me. It destroys me. I just melt before it. And it kicks in an express slide straight into the darkest pits of the abyss for me. It's so strong it makes me flinch. Stop. STOP. I have to shut it off. Shut down. Otherwise it will eat me alive, double time. And then play a horrible dance of trying to forget it, it's ok, don't think about it, la la la, FLASH, mmuuuhhh, don't.. think.. about .. it... arrrrrgggggg.

Even now, talking about it second hand is like dealing with radioactive material. Lethal.

I don't know. Perhaps I am just epically shit at dealing with grief. Perhaps my sensitivity is dialled up to ludicrous max. Just a dysfunctionally developed person that doesn't cope well.

Very probably.

It's a problem.

It's also one of the bits of straw that adds to the, I don't want to be here anymore. One of the threads of pain. Stuff I don't want to remember. I don't want to forget. Just. Stop.

Tricky.

In a way. Some of my ongoing ailments are perhaps not rocket science. My body is often subjected to massively off the scale emotional bouts. All those stress chemicals. And torture. Doing no end of damage to pump me up in the moment. Like a firework burning at all ends.

Hum ho.

I was pretty happy yesterday too. I leaned into not feeling ill. And enjoyed every minute of it.

Today.

No.

Fuck me and my perpetual gloom.

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