Learning how not to think

I can remember a time when I actually thought. Thinking was a hobby. Reading several news sources a day, letting the information tumble about in my head, running to the library or my reference shelf or a professor's office when I wanted more information or clarity on a topic . . . that used to be how I breathed and lived. In my free time, I would pick a random section of the university library and read several books. Those might spark an interest in 14th century court farces or Constructionist sculpture or the fashion of nihilist women in the Russian Classical age. I devoured knowlege and I sorted it into various niches, saving it for when I might suddenly find it relevant. And I often did dig it back up, finding relevance every single day. The tangled web of information, knowlege, and the wide expanses of *everything* consumed me.

It seems so foreign now. Almost all of my spare energy is given over toward coping with pain. I've tried writing as a means of coping--of dissociation--but the pain pushes through and takes over. I've tried to keep up on world events and new theories, on the intricacies of foreign policy, but there is precious little space left in my head for the organization rational thought requires.

I occasionally make myself read the world news only in Russian or French, desperately hoping to fire up some calcified synaptic connection. Sometimes I feel a spark, but I usually just find myself as frustrated with the news as when I read it in English. Something is there, but it's just beyond my grasp. And when I go to search for it, I suddenly forget just what it was.

Sometimes I return to math and physics, the language I spoke before people started to interest me. And I find that while I can understand single fragments of it just as well, I can't make the logical leaps that once made it so easy for me. It's like that in every subject now.

I can look at two theories and where I once saw arcs and tangents and a cloud of relational substance, I just see two distinct entities, alone in a void.

Pain hasn't just severed relationships, it's erased them.

That terrifies me.

Allocations

I have a tiny bit of energy today. I'd like to leave the house briefly, perhaps for coffee. I'm medicated, so I shouldn't be contagious. I'm not sure, though, that I'll be in any shape to leave the house (or drive) after I shower. And showering must happen if I leave the house. Also, I feel guilty spending my tiny bit of energy on something so selfish as going out for a coffee when the newspapers could stand to be put in the recycling box and the shoes put away and the floor vaccuumed.

Yes, this is what it comes down to. I can spend energy on taking a shower, driving, or tidying. I definitely don't have energy for more than two things and I might only have enough for one.

And I know that I'll settle for a quick shower or a sponge bath and then tidying. eilonwy is coming tonight and I'd at least like a clean floor, if not a tidy house.

gratitude

Thank you, boy.

Thank you for running outside with the dog every day for the last week. Thank you for staying on top of all the dishes. Thank you for vaccuuming the living room while I showered today. Thank you for making dinner most days and brining me countless cups of tea. Thank you for taking a sick day to take me to the doctor. Thank you for the random grocery runs you made for me. I know you have a final to study for, a musical to learn, four nights of rehearsal a week, and a forty hour workweek, but thank you. I appreciate it.

Love,
me