Dec 29

 Felt ok enough to play some games yesterday. And enjoyed the experience. When I poke around this is I think my "high water mark". But it is very sobering. Because it's really very low.

I have thought about this many times in many different ways over the last few years. That slow wax and wane of capability. How I see it in others. How really obvious it becomes in those who are health compromised. And how I think ultimately it is the pattern of your death - not withstanding sudden events like getting running over or an aneurysm.

My main teacher of this was my mom. I got to see this in action. Up close. In detail. Over a critical period of 5 years. And before that. A more subtle 5 years on top of that.

It's a lot of data. It teaches you a lot of the variables going on. And for a chronic systems cruncher and observer like myself. It feeds my understanding and simulation of the world.

At the personal emotional level it is Not Good. Despite the "difficult" relationship I had - we had - with my mom. I still care that she suffered. I cared very much when the old man "mistreated" her in her vulnerable state. I personally find this a little odd, even though, again, I get it. How you can care about someone or something that has done you harm. In a simplistic world, those that do you harm, you don't care about.

Except. It doesn't work like that. And I do understand the many different paths here. From the loving partner that is regularly abused. To those that will absorb the pain and care anyway. These things. Are not an algorithmic simulation. At least. Not at that simple a level.

I can hold in my head simultaneously the awful person my mom used to be. And still be very sad about the suffering she endured in the last third of her life, particularly at the end. Like a lot of things. I don't think anyone really deserves that.

But anyway.

The wax and wane of capability. Which. I think now. Is just the outward signs of the autonomic systems rising and falling - unable to consistently cope, and their capability level dropping further with each long cycle. The slow degradation of the engine itself. Until it fails.

Pills, potions, lotions and lifestyle changes. Are all, when looked at brutally, temporary vain attempts to stop the sand trickling away through your fingers. I have seen that pattern time and time again. At a high level. It just looks like desperation. Perhaps I am seeing it too high at that point however. And the small wins at the low level. The reducing of pain. The additional ease. Is worth it.

Whilst I have seen that pattern in so many places and so many people. I think the best, hardest examples I have are with my mutts. I took each step with them, tightly bonded, through escalating support and medical aid. And watched their deterioration anyway. I think. On reflection. I probably achieved my best ever personal result with them - I tried very hard to stay away from the inevitable future. I stayed in the moment with them. I enjoyed everyday with them. Many times I consciously corrected and grounded myself in the current. To stay away from the monstrous mountain looming ever closer. I didn't hide from it. Or deny it. I just made sure to enjoy every moment I had with them. And only when that bridge was finally crossed. Would it collapse and pitch me into its horrible reality.

I know. That this isn't an easy thing for me. At all. The always three steps ahead. Always calculated. Always understood. But. I did very much get the weight of what was going on. And I lived with my mutts instead.

But anyway.

I can see with my mutts that I was fighting a losing fight. You are never going to win that fight. But I fought it anyway. As well as I could. I was their voice, their protector, their advocate in a world where they had no voice. I don't think there is any greater responsibility than that. Having another life in your hands. In me. Perhaps not great. But it will inspire the fiercest of defences, and the hardest of burns. I will absolutely go down myself before I waver. It is the not so great self destructive wiring I have. If you're being nice. Self sacrificing. If you're not. The flawed lack of self worth and self destructive nature.

But for all that. I know some of the things we did. Helped enormously. Extended life. Extended their joy. Particularly Athena. Who I think got another couple of years on top of her allotment - good years at that.

So you get to that point about. Life being finite. Everything you do from one frame is pointless. The nihilist frame. You are never going to win that battle. Everything then is for nothing. But. From another frame. It's not true. In the moment. In the subjective. With all its flaws. With all its pointlessness. It does matter. From that perspective.

I have genuine difficulty splitting the difference, let alone living in the purely subjective. I am torn, not in some unfeeling philosophical way, but in a genuine emotional angst kind of way about the realities of these two different things. Don't get me wrong here. I absolutely cherish the subjective experience I had with my mutts. I 100% believe it, can see it, can feel it, idiotic to present otherwise. And yet there is another bit of me, that circles neatly around my dogs and excludes them, and can see the cold nihilistic reality that there is. That everything drains to mud.

This is not resolved in me. It is an open tension. A war. I cannot reliably apply it to myself one way or the other. Where that line is in ending it. Good enough. Bad enough. Does another day matter. What does it matter.

I think, perhaps, really, this is just my self worth causing trouble. In reality. I would never even question that for something I loved with all my heart - my mutts. I would always argue another day was important. Hell. One of my genuinely horrible torture points about them is I have enormous guilt and doubt about oh, if only I gave them one more dinner time. One more day with the breeze on their face. I am a terrible person. Did I maximise it completely. So. Clearly. It matters a whole lot to me when its something I care about a lot. Or perhaps. That too is dysfunction. The flip side of that ugly coin. From zero care - dysfunctional - to maximum overburn care - dysfunctional. The coin itself is twisted and fucked up.

Maybe.

In any case.

Full circle.

I can see in my condition an alarming decline. The ups are pathetic. The downs are an existential threat. I know this pattern. I have seen what a sinking ship looks like with each progressive wave crashing higher over the prow of the ship.

I am not good. Very. Not good.

At my best moments I can sit and enjoy a game. I am very thankful about that. It feels. For small moments. Like I am normal again. Even though at times through that, I can feel it move underneath me, the nausea turns over, exhaustion squeezes, the dizzy flickers. And I mask. No. No no. Not yet. Leave me alone. Go away.

But even with those best moments. The vast majority of the rest of the day. Is very under performing. Vulnerable. Incapable. Sleeping for huge chunks of time. Itself a sign. A sign of something that can no longer maintain a normal uptime. Forget aches and pains and ailments. Which I have. This is fundamental. This is not being able to keep the lights on. This is that visible set of signs of how badly your autonomic systems are doing.

I can feel part of me somewhere panics about it. Oh my god. Oh no oh no oh no. But I am well used to this path. And whilst that absolutely is still within me. There is also a part that is accepting of it. Waiting for the shoe to drop. Just get on with it. A combination of defeat and acceptance. Exhaustion makes this easier. It's easier to be accepting when you don't have the energy to protest.

I have a glimmer of hope that I just improve over a series of days, weeks. Perhaps in one sunny future that my time in the mines has been enough, and that I stabilise to a better state. Not unprecedented. But. The majority of me just sits with the data as is. The occam's razor of which way the data projection points. The line goes down not up. Plot the points. But I know false extrapolation is an inevitability in all such data analyses. You can't reliably extrapolate the future from the past because always there are phase changes, pivot points where the trends turn. And those. Are the things that get missed in simple extrapolations. They are good at showing trends within a stable set of parameters. They are blind to showing trends when you hit limits or tipping points. If you eat one more cookie today than you did yesterday, starting at one cookie. Within a week you eat 7 cookies in a day. Extrapolation would have you eating hundreds of packets in a few years. Clear. Predictable. Perfectly in line with data. But that can't happen. Instead. The pattern breaks. Not enough cookies. Not able to process that much sugar. Not able to eat that without throwing up. etc.

But. Despite that.

I see my extrapolation. I think it tells the truth. There are no pivot points between here and the existential there. 

All of this. Then becomes a challenge for my mental health. Not an unreasonable one. It is a hard ask to stay upright under that kind of pressure. Ignoring everything else already going on. It has enormous consequences. About what you can do. About what joy you can squeeze out of life. About isolation. And suffering. And how much of life gets cut out for you. And whether. It is worth it or not.

Here we are.

The wrestle. In the chaotic mud of facts and counter facts and emotions and just physical suffering.

Where is the line.

Objective vs subjective. The joy of the moment versus the cold horror of the infinite nihilist.

It is a war that rages on everyday in me. The lines move back and forth. Sometimes they run right up to my headquarters. Another single step. And the void wins.

But perhaps. That's the right call anyway. But perhaps. That's just my cold objective sense. Telling me that logically, you can see, it's over already. That you should have died in 2021 anyway. Let it go.

Difficult.

Suffice to say.

I am not enjoying myself.

Perhaps on a related note.

I feel a strong tug to isolate. I don't want to go out. I don't want to do anything. I don't want anything to happen. I don't even want daylight. I want it to be quiet. Dark. Isolated. Perhaps this is the response of an overwhelmed system. Too much stimuli overload. Be quiet. Perhaps this is me just instinctively looking for a place to die. Without realising it. Finding a quiet spot. To wink out. In the least impacting way possible.

Hum ho.

I think it's a question I will float past my shrink when I see them next. One of a couple. The other one being about the depth of my emotions. Do they need chemical clipping. Or do you ride that tiger. I don't know. Perhaps the shrink does.