I’ve been having trouble sleeping since my surgery. I can’t get comfortable to relax enough to drift off. Tonight I compounded the problem by relapsing on late night coffee. Now the sky is greying and birds are chirping outside my window and I am terrified of life.
I’m not terrified at all the aspects of my life, but just enough that I have been staring at the ceiling with clenched teeth and rocking back and forth trying to find a comfortable position to lie.
Now that I’ve had health problems I’ve become terrified of death. Not the ultimate passing on, but the possibility of a slow painful death. I’m terrified of having to spend years in hospitals and doctor appointments giving blood and getting tested and treated.
I’m not a young man anymore. My body isn’t the invincible meat armor it once was. I still am not allowed to lift anything heavier than a full milk gallon. This time my body will repair itself and I’ll be strong again. This time.
Next time I might be stuck being weak and unable to walk at a brisk pace. I’ll face the time that I won’t be able to run. The most horrible outcome is when I won’t be able to play softball anymore.
I am heartbroken so I thought about how I’ll never find love. I have this disgusting scar running down my torso and I only have one testicle and I’m old, so love has passed me by. I now grow old alone. My luck with women has run out.
The problem is I don’t want to even try to find a new love; I want the old love. I was thinking about how I’d be at work, sitting at home, in the hospital getting chemo or even sitting on the bus going somewhere and I’d think about her and I’d feel this feeling of everything is ok because she was out there somewhere and she loved me. It made so much ok. I slept well because I knew she was there. Now that is mostly gone and I think about how I’ll never come close to that again.
I also gave myself a panic attack when I realized that I haven’t worked since basically August and that I’ll have to get a job and I might not remember how to work. I pictured myself showing up to some job and standing there with no idea how to do anything.
I also thought about being interviewed and the interviewers all being unimpressed with me because I couldn’t answer anything right.
I tried putting on some Philip Glass to calm down and it helped a little. The repetition helps sooth the wandering mind.
Ever since I got to my parents house I lie in bed not able to sleep until I start hearing the birds and my window lightens up a little. I sleep for a bit and wake up around 8 or 9, go to the bathroom, then sleep till noon. I can only be on one side or the other for a few minutes before I get uncomfortable. I lie on my back, but I can’t sleep that way. That’s my thinking position, and thinking isn’t doing me any good.
I’ve been trying to hang out with people, but I feel old and misunderstood. I don’t feel like I’m on the same page as anyone. I’m not into the same things as other people and I certainly don’t view the world like anyone else. I feel like I’m 38 going on 68 in 1959. I feel like a dead man who forgot to lie down and let the nice people cremate.
I try and be strong. I’m trying to get to the other side of this cancer, heartbreak, unemployed thing, but I just feel depressed and sad about it. I feel so fucking beat up and lonely. There are a thousand people loving, supporting and reaching out to me, but all I can see is this ceiling and all the patterns.
I know things are going to get better, but goddamn it I want them to be better now. It seems like it’s taking forever. I’m tired of being in pain – both physically and emotionally. I’m tired of not being comfortable. I’m tired of being tired.
It sucks today and it will probably suck tomorrow. At least I fixed the homeless thing. I’ll be moving next week and I’m excited to get that chapter of my life going so at least I have at least one thing going right. Then I can heal up and finally start working again.
It is just taking too long to get to the rest of my life.