u s e y o u r h a n d s

I’ve been remiss and the reasons are myriad. I’ve been fighting with my poor paws, afflicted with a painful case of cubital tunnel syndrome, which has been causing my hands to go numb for hours and days at a time. So, there’s that.

And I’ve been working a lot. Yesterday, I celebrated exactly nine months with my current employer, and should tradition hold, I’ll be working somewhere else in three.

And I’ve just been so deep in the muck. I’m seeing a new psychiatrist and am back on medication, but the older I get, the worse it gets. Lately, I can’t shake the chase of a certain key and painful piece of knowledge: that I am so fundamental inadequete as to be hopeless. That there will never be any calm, any respite because I just don’t deserve it. I should take every punch I can possibly serve up because I have not — and cannot — learn to be any better.

It’s hard sometimes. But there are moments when I pick up speed and escape these thoughts. However, my paranoia is coming back big time. It manifests itself thusly: I believe that I will be shot in public by a deranged stranger or that everyone I know hates, hates, hates me. And even saying that in the blog pushes me closer to thinking it could happen.

And I’m listening to Morrissey. “Lifeguard Sleeping/Girl Drowning” is a lovely and appropriate song.

Oh, and I cut all of my hair off. Luckily, not with a straight razor.