I really don’t like to spend time worrying about birthdays, but since I started being sick they more feel like a mark on a doomsday clock. That’s a depressing way to think of it I’m sure, but since I have been unable to do anything since this started I feel I’m wasting time. I spend every day doing nothing of purpose. It’s like I’m just hanging around waiting to die. So it sucks to think about time because it slips by and unless you’re enjoying it, you’re wasting it.
I woke up with a panic attack again at 4 am. I dreamt of me doing a speech on my 63rd birthday and I was getting anxiety in my dream as I told those in attendance “it’s hard to believe 13 years ago I turned 50!” In my dream I started having an anxiety attack and next thing I know I’m awake having one. It’s terrible to waste time, but counting the time wasted is just magnifying it. I know it’s unhealthy, but my brain has done this all my life.
I don’t know why I’m so fixed on the life clock? After I finally calmed myself and went back to sleep I was awakened by one of the dogs licking my head to wake me. I let her out and sit in the living room with a cup of coffee. My wife is playing music videos on YouTube and cutting up our daughters softball shirts to make a quilt for her. All the songs that played I pointed out that the singers were dead. It started with Chris Cornell’s version of “nothing compares to you” where I jokingly said everyone who famously sang this song was dead. My wife drops her head and chuckled saying “HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE!” Her point being that on top of everything, those were the first words out of my mouth.
While I’m excited to get out into the pines today, I noticed that I’m good when there’s something I get to go do, or if I have a project to keep my occupied. It’s when I’m alone with my thoughts that the shadows overtake my thoughts. The other side of that is I spend so much time seeing past lives and the ghosts that linger that I really can’t avoid the subject of inevitability and death. Most people would think I’m insane. When you talk to me on any normal occasion I’m as grounded as the next guy, but talk about visions, spirits, spiritual energy, etcetera, and I sound like I’m a complete nut job.
I’m the guy who says things directly. To most I’m an asshole nut job who gets under your skin. To the few who know me truly and understand me, I’m a laid back guy who just has a couple loud moments. Nobody likes hearing that there hasn’t been an original thought for ages. Nobody likes hearing that we’re all going to die. “Why are you so grumpy and negative?” I’m not. I’m just honest. I’m autistic and hide as someone who is not. I learned to mimic very young. So I pass as a person who is not autistic. That means Is that I say things with the delicate touch of a sledgehammer to the face. Add in the mix of dealing with dimensional existences and seeing through the walls of separation, I see a lot of past present and future. I see and feel things most ignore, but for me it’s like a poison ivy rash that never heals. You can ignore it momentarily but it’s always there on your skin. You can’t stop your subconscious taking a pick or scratch. So needless to say I can seem like a bit much.
I end up staying home because I can tell the day was going to be busy. I mean everyone is suffering from crazy cabin fever. Everyone is like “fuck the pandemic” and out in force. So I instead stay home and hide in my hole. I only go out if it’s required, and when I do I’m like a field mouse looking out for the hawks about to swoop down and rip my into shades of bird shit! Besides, my day is busy enough with many journeys in the TARDIS of my mind.