Meditation diaries: In which I just ramble and call it meditation diaries only because it was a ‘series’ I started…

Often life feels like you have this constant ‘thing’ chasing you. Be it the Depression, the anxiety the overwhelmingness that seems to come simply from having Autism. I don’t want to call it a black dog, that’s just…insulting to black dogs. Quite frankly if I did have a black dog following me I’d probably be pretty happy with the black dog (unless it was an aggressive dog following me to attack me of course).

Not sure why people use that black dog metaphor, especially when we supposedly love dogs so much. Why would you call Depression or anything else like it ‘the black dog that follows me’? Seems a rather strange one to me. Perhaps it should be clarified that it’s a rabid black dog. In which case that would certainly be depressing because that dog is really fucking ill and will need to be put down.

And dying dogs are a very depressing idea.

I went to a cardiac clinic today to check on my heart. I was overdue my heart check-up anyway but the reason I went today was that I have been having palpitations.

And the truth is the older I get the more aware I’m becoming of the fact my heart condition isn’t ‘cured’ and never will be. Not that I ever thought it would be cured, but the point is the older I get the more the risks of further complications with my heart go up a notch.

And that’s from a heart that was already very much at risk as a child.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m either thankful I haven’t started having heart failure yet, and thus actually appreciating life.

But then there are the other moments when it’s all I can think about, “Shit, my heart is gonna fail, my heart is gonna fail! It’s going to fucking fail!”

And then to conflict that I have the depression that sometimes tells me, “You’re better off dead anyway,” but then that ends up being quite relaxing because then I just sort of start relaxing into this state of mind where “Welp, my heart might start to fail, but whatever. Who cares.”

I know ultimately that my life expectancy is shorter than average.

Some people use that sort of fact to their advantage. They use it as a means to appreciate every day more because their life really is short!

But I struggle with that.

Because the world is often so overwhelming to me. I always feel like a sort of fish out of water trying to navigate through life and social interactions.

This isn’t really a woe is me post. It looks it though.

I mean what I am trying to say is that I do appreciate some aspects a lot more the more I come to the realisation I’m at least maybe early middle age in terms of my heart condition and life expectancy? I mean I could be totally wrong. I could defy the statistics. And last longer than expected

Or

I could die tonight. I could die tomorrow. Or next week or whenever.

And yea sure it can help put things into perspective.

Like when some arsehole screams at you for no reason that makes sense and you’re thinking, “You fucking prick,” you take a breath and you think “Well, what’s the use arguing. We’re all gonna be dead one day anyway. So why argue with a person who won’t even listen to a word you say anyway?”

But I find another part of me, the part of me that is like a terrier with a bone, he wants to grip that bone and he wants to never let it fucking go.

As with all terriers, he’s fucking cute.

But he’s also an angry cunt who barks. Too fiercely.

Currently, I appreciate Jays (birds) and yea, all other birds actually. And dogs. I love dogs. And did I tell you I love Jays?

But I’ve also got some things bugging me.

Too much is changing at once. The local council are changing things. Support is changing. Nothing feels in its place and it feels like my brain is being electrocuted. My life doesn’t feel in it’s place.

And that screaming prick. And others response to it all. “Just ignore him,” Well thats all well and good but I ignore the person 90% of the time. I’m not a fucking brick.

But what really, really, really grinds my fucking gears…

All the responsibility is being put on my shoulders to ignore them. What about putting some responsibility at his door?

I sound like a sibling who’s younger brother or sister gets away with everything, don’t I?

*sighs*

I try to set out to be the image of myself I have inside my head. And I’m always falling short of it.

I’m not a duck either. I can’t let things just let it go like water off a ducks back. What kind of oil would I use to make that ‘water’ go off my back? I don’t have a preen gland that produces oil to make it just drip right off me.

Which is partly why I fall short of my ideal self because I wish to be a duck. If only to have a corkscrew shaped penis.

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