Oct 13

 Despite no serious nausea yesterday, by late afternoon I felt shit.

Went for a walk. Half way round I had to sit down. And then lie down.

I recovered enough. But yeah. Not great. Still. Better than I have been.

This morning I have woken up like being pulled backwards through a hedge, and my mood... is low. Shadows low. Long term looming doom low.

It must have been my dreams. Somewhat. I dreamed of war. And the end of things. I watched the missiles fly. But I also dreamed I had another dog. Another boxer. Just like Ares. I knew it wasn't Ares. But it was just like him.

I chatted to a friend last evening. One way or another we got to the point of him questioning that I was a burnout. That, it wasn't time for me to pull in my horns, to stop. It seemed like I was giving up prematurely. Still life there to live. We are dead a long time he said.

Mm. Sure. And from there straight into.

You need to get another dog.

Difficult. I don't have the energy or wellbeing to keep up with an active pupper. It tickles my sense of fairness. Not fair on the dog. I can't selfishly get a dog just because. Its welfare comes before mine. And I'm not about to compromise the life of another for my selfish sake.

He thought even at 50% I would give a dog a better home than many others. And that you can hold yourself to too high a standard.

Mmm. Can you though. I mean sure, in terms of survival or what's good for you. But. Objectively. I don't think so. I know that's a brutal line to take. And puts zero airs and graces on "human superiority", which I absolutely do not believe in. My importance is no greater than anything elses. Tyranny is the path of forcing others to dance for you.

But I am also aware it's pretty hard. And some would soften it and say that's ok.

I uh, don't believe that.

I said I had no answer to that question. About what I do when Athena is gone. I have no solution to the problem of, I am better with a dog, but feel like I cannot do them their best and therefore cannot have one. And the implications that then has. I am not sure what happens after Athena. I just don't know. I know it will be a terrible blow. I know to some extent it will be like the final nail in the coffin. And I am not sure how I come out of that. If at all. A greater part of me is ok with the ending of the tale. Because. All our tales come to an end. Not if. But when. And that's all it is. The when.

I am a shitty role model for this. I am not some hugger onto life, full of the joys of existence. I am not a good example.

I have an answer to it said my friend.

Ok.

Get a dog.

Ha.

I don't know. To a greater extent there is a race of sorts going on. How does my illness go. Better. Worse. Holding par. And what the results of that mean to what I do. Get a dog. Don't. Do you have the wellness to deal with it. The timing of when Athena pops her clogs, the winding ways of my health battles, are not in my control. I do not know those things.

So. For the moment. I just live in the now. And enjoy what I can right now.

Because there is an element there of thinking about all the futures. Of plans. Of no plans. That involves worrying about the future. Of confronting the terrible, which at least some of it will be, way before I need to. And that way lies madness. It's something I have been tremendously good ( bad ) at in the past, and is something at least that CBT has taught me to do a whole lot less of.

This kind of stuff teeters dangerously close to worrying about shit before it happens.

So that was that.

And perhaps it got caught in my brain.

And I dreamed.

And today I have woken up with a very heavy weight on my shoulders, and my mood bumping along the bottom of the floor, and overall, a sense of all things coming to an end.

It didn't help that as I woke up, my chest was wheezing, my allergies were tickling, and an arm was dead. Ah yes. In such a good state health wise. A reminder. There is no escaping it.

Today I need to claw my way out of that hole. I don't know. But it's hard. Everything in the house today looks like a failure. A problem that is too much for me to deal with. Intellectually I can grab it, ah, jeez, ok, whoa, my mood is super low, the shit tinted spectacles have descended.

Life is hard.

Life as a biochemically always in motion, never the same twice, plusating ridiculous fleshbag is doubly hard. That's the price of getting a bit of salty bacon to try and think.