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hot damn screw the man
I've been unwell. And I feel it is punishment for not living an authentic life. I got tangled up in webs of self deceit. Self destruction. And it has thrown my body so far off balance that I now have health issues.
For my health I have had to take all fermented food out of my diet. No booze. No homemade pickles. No sauerkraut. No tamari. No chocolate, even.
No fun.
My dad never drank coffee until he was in his 40s. Then he got a taste for it. Then he started getting kidney stones and he couldn't drink coffee anymore. I remember him saying something like, “I wish I had never gotten a taste for it, because then I wouldn't be missing it so much right now.”
That's pretty much how I feel about almost everything.
Funny thing is, I can seem to handle coffee still. In small doses. And only about once a week. I savor that coffee, because that's all I have now.
I know it's unreasonable to feel that I am being punished for living a certain way. I don't know who is doing the punishing. I don't believe in that sort of thing. But it's there scratching me in the back of my mind.
You deserve this, you piece of shit. You deserve a lot worse. So be happy it's not worse and keep the line moving.
It's more just cause and effect. Rationally, I know this. Consequences to actions I knew would show up eventually. Consequences every addict thinks they will somehow be able to avoid.
Like they are going to the be only junkie out there that never gets dope sick. Or the only boozer that doesn't ingest the green demon. The hooker that doesn't get AIDS. The phobic that doesn't get locked in a room full of bugs by a psycho killer on Halloween.
Eh.
No matter what the addiction is, it's got you forever and ever. And you will pay for all those good times. Oh yes, you will pay.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Now I have to live like a yogi. But like Gandhi, I want to scarf down a box of Triscuits before my 40 day fast.
Heh.
All I know is that I am sick of hearing doctors tell me they don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not a hypochondriac.
They thought my youngest brother was a hypochondriac too. Then they diagnosed him with Fibromyalgia. There wasn't a name for it. Then there was. He went from being crazy to being sick overnight. It was the same symptoms, the same feelings, the same everything, only science didn't know what the fuck yet. And he had to deal with a lot of asshole doctors taking his money and making him feel worse.
I don't see how a doctor can heal you when they don't ask you any personal questions. They don't ask what you've been eating, how you've been living. Any changes in philosophy. Any problems with neighbors?
Everything is black and white in their sterile little world. And real life is total grayscale.
I knew this would happen eventually. Getting old has this down side. The body responding to decades of abuse. This is inevitable.
So, I watch old Martha Stewart Living episodes on youtube and remember why I got rid of my television in 1998.
5:44 PM - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
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