Deja Vu? I Talk About Boring Stuff Like How I Feel... Again

Quick note: I turned off comments on this post, sometimes I think I'll do this, on these sort of journal entry posts (not that I don't love all your wonderful comments, I just thought it might be good to nix it on this, you guys have already given me so many encouraging comments on my situation, and these sorts of posts are a little repetitive, and it's not like I leave you with much to say except things like good luck or damn that sucks or you should go smoke some crack you'll feel like God).

I wrote this earlier today. I was feeling frustrated... This is sort of like a journal entry, but I spiced it up in my editing phase, where I added a couple psychotic visions. I thought you'd appreciate that, or, maybe the terrible, murderous, psychotic visions I included in this post will just scare you and you will cry because you can't handle their intensity. Well, read on if you dare...

So... this post delves deeply into Sebastien's psychology (always refer to yourself in the 3rd person, adds a scary that guy must be crazy factor to your personality!). Anyways, I am optimistic most of the time, but I do have moments and times where I feel sooooo trapped in by my body, ahhhhhh, maybe I just need chocolate! I'm like, so incoherent today, you'd think I got so high I forgot 2+2. uh, =4. Shit, what??

Eh, sorry, I haven't slept well these past couple days, sometimes I go through these periods where it's very difficult being positive about my situation, I kinda get claustraphobic of being in a body that's always sick, it's so frustrating, I sort of feel like my body is choking me from the inside out. I was telling my sister that when I feel like this, it reminds me of this play I read where these people are stuck in a room for eternity! Although my existential crisis isn't quite that bad, the room in that story is equivalent to my body... Awww, pity me, just kidding, I'll make it through this BS, but man, my body does feel like it's own prison, I'm locked in with balls and chains. Well, at least my torturers are on strike or something, you know, because those headaches have really calmed down. I just hope the government doesn't start paying the torturers again, I don't want them to get back to work inside the back of my head to whip up those nasty headaches, those bitches!

My situation kind of makes me think of the myth of Sisyphus, anytime I think I'm making progress I get kicked back down a couple notches. That's why I keep my opium pipe nearby, sweet sweet comfort, I love drifting off into a land where the skies are full of floating elephants who are diligently working on their novels on their laptops which are plugged into clouds for energy while down below on dry land the void is filled with the voices of opera singing tigers, who get carrot bullets thrown into them by demonic rabies crazed rabbits (those bastard bunnies hate music!)... yet there is one true good guy to fight all this evil, the one who will deliver everyone from these evil bunnies, this, of course, would be Rocky the Raccoon. And yes, I will be drawing this scenario one of these days. And yes, my imagination (or is that insanity, fine line I suppose) has grown leaps and bounds, you can thank my illness for that. Or maybe the craziness was always there, and only now have I been able to tap into that. Chicken or the egg, who knows...

Here's one of the most difficult things, and I think all of you who are battling health conditions or illnesses will understand this: I've always had faith in my body, I could always trust it to be there, to allow me to work hard, to get better from colds and viruses, I could always count on feeling well enough to do fun things, be active, ride my bike, see friends. Now that my body has been nailed so badly and hasn't yet recovered, I feel that all the trust I had, in a body I thought so dependable and strong, well, it's vanished, or at least been shattered into lots of tiny pieces.

Now, my faith and trust aren't completely destroyed, and although the faith I used to have in my body has taken a hard hit, the faith I have in my mind is very strong. Yes, there are times where my confidence is shaky, but my mind is surfing on this wave of badness, although I still get hit with bouts of worry and fear, my mind can usually overcome those periods of worry.

But one thing that has to happen, especially for me to regain confidence in my physical self, is that my body needs to prove to me that I can trust it again, it needs to prove to me that it won't hurt me every day with headaches, it needs to let me do things before I can establish any sort of trust and confidence again. In a sense, my body's failure and collapse makes me feel like I've been cheated on, by my own body! sort of like when you realize someone you have great admiration for is actually just a complete mirage, a mixture of illusions and fancy stories, just a big fat fake you can't even count on. Yeah, I'm being dramatic, and I know the only way to get out of this whole illness thingy is to believe so strongly and deeply that my mind will lead my body out of the gutter, and I truly do believe it... I feel like it's my destiny to beat this thing, sort of like those people who believe in the endless progress of humanity, well, I believe in my endless progress against this illness, but you know, you get down sometimes, you get into existential crisis mode (damnit, that's probably the French in me, stupid existential writers making me realize the absurdity of life and everything like that, illogical craziness, but there's faith in family, friends, and the spiritual to get you out of the postmodern bullshit of things). Anyways, I'm still in the trenches with this thing, and like any good fight, there's ups and downs, good moments and bad... this illness, which is so sneaky and devious, this illness which can't even show itself to fight mano a mano, well it floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee, but this illness isn't as cool or as strong as Ali, and it does not have the qualities of being eternal and insurmountable, it just feels that way at times.

Don't worry, I really am ok. I'm sorry to write some of this stuff, it makes me feel stupid, but at the same time I think it's good for me to not only show my optimistic side, but also my frustration. It's not all roses, I'm not skipping through this period of my life with carefree glee you could say...

All that being said, I'm happy, I'm lucky, things can always be worse (thanks to the friend who pointed out to me things can always be better, haha, that didn't help!). But you know, bad things build character I suppose, isn't that what Calvin's dad (from Calvin and Hobbes) always said? I hope I have lots of character after this, hehe...