I’m having a bit of a med crisis…
Essentially, my meds were starting to wain in their efficacy so I doubled my dose, and because of that bit of brilliance, I am having horrible side effects. Starting with, I can’t feel my face. No joke. Actually, that’s not even right. Let me amend that, I can only feel pain. Pins and needles pain, in my face, hands, and feet. So, as the doc says, I stop the med.
Now, I still can’t feel my face and I am going through a blowback of symptoms that the meds usually contain. Dude. It’s a mess. I’m a mess.
It’s appropriate that in this med crisis, the existential dread comes creeping in. Let’s get real, she didn’t creep. She leapt into my numb tongue face and blatted at me like a goat. What a bitch…
Existential Dread. It’s important to know what that feels like and what to do about it.
What does it feel like? For me, it’s the feeling that nothing I do will ever matter. That it’s too late. I’m too old. (I’m only 36.) I should just give up, and stop trying. Existential dread. Bitch.
What do I do about it? First, you make yourself aware of why the goat lady is at your door. For example, you’re having an issue with your medications. (Ding, ding, ding!) You have just had a milestone birthday. You just had a change in relationship status. You took a really bad picture. I don’t know. The unintended invitation of existential dread, or trigger, is as varied as the dread. But you have to ferret it out if you are going to get her to go.
Jeez, I suppose I am still figuring that out.
At the moment, I am trying to collect all the things in my mind that usually just click for me. Give me that dopamine hit of gratitude and experience. Whether that’s novels, movies, art, family, sex, whatever- I’m looking for my dragons. The things that I usually chase to feel right. To achieve that level of chemical homeostasis in my brain that even meds can’t achieve for me.
Essentially, I am going full Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons. (I didn’t even watch that show. Too much murder.)
Anyway, I want to find my dragons. And then make real world plans to harness those pursuits.
I need to read more. Find more books and don’t waste my time on books that don’t click. Move on and maybe I’ll go back to it one day. No book purchase is ever a waste.
(Except, “The Courage to be Disliked”. That was some ableism bullshit. The only thing I enjoyed was the question and answer structure that I could have got from another more positive book like “The Power of Now”. The message and philosophy was some serious bull excrement. Do not buy. Not the book. Not the philosophy.)
I need to write more. Find a way to focus while writing. More ASMR? More oceans sounds? Less mindless tv watching. Write anything. If not writing, then reading. All good writers read. Anyone who tells you different is wrong.
Paint. Distill the painting process to just what makes me happy. Color combinations. Bah to realism and make compositions based on color and movement alone. Like Paul McCartney. Paul McCartney was a fantastic painter, FYI.
Write more poetry (or maybe just description?) Ok. Sometimes story telling is a bitch and I just want to write some poetry. I am not saying that poetry is easy. Far from it. I am saying that I need to practice. And sometimes practice needs to start with small gains. Like word associations and beautiful phrases.
Like I said in my last post, maybe I need to practice just taking up space?
The first half of existential dread is existential. Existing. Just Exist. And be proud of that alone.
Maybe the biggest truth I have right now… is that I am uncomfortably numb.