It's been a while since I've blogged. I haven't seen the point. It felt pointless. Couldn't maintain the motivation to do it. Tried a dozen times over the years.
So I'm about two months into taking some medication.
1) Escitalopram (Lexapro)
2) Hydroxyzine
On the whole I feel better. It's quite noticeable. It's definitely a leg-up. My habits are still the missing ingredient, however. Although I can keep up a decent routine (walking, tai chi, meditation, hope) for a few days something inevitably makes me feel sad and I before I know it I haven't gone outside for 3 days and slept away most of that time. The possibility of keeping up the bedrock of self-care despite my emotional state is still quite beyond me; my emotions determine my behavior, not the other way around.
Am I still growing, learning? My dreams lead me to wonder. It often feels like there's stuff churning and bubbling beneath all my hibernation, beneath all my subsisting and all my hiding. I'm often surprised by how much I've come to terms with being a loser. A nice way of putting it could be "living humbly and simply", but there's no honor in what I'm doing. I'm a parasite. I'm a dead end. For me to be okay with that is a horror. Part of me isn't happy with it...but it seems that side is losing.
What's the point of my life? What do I see it as? What of my free will? Am I content to let the world happen to me; let others determine my fate? It seems so thus far.
Why am I still alive? To steal people's food and play video games and let my relationships rot?
