Taking a load off. Getting flushed. This title isn’t particularly subtle.

Feeling many types of shit. Many types? How many different types of shit are we talking? Well I guess that depends if we’re grading “types” as variations. A case could be made for consistencies counting as types, or the species of entity that created the shit. I’d say I digress but digression seems to be the point of this whole endeavour.

So I’m feeling irritable, grumpy, down, sad, lonely and everything that comes in that wonderfully dense cornucopia of malaise. I know why I feel this way, but it doesn’t stop those feelings from manifesting. It’d be easy enough to put together a short flow chart of “I feel crap because” that’d probably involve the following:

  • Decreased physical activity.
  • Diminished oxytocin levels.
  • Push and pull of caffeine.
  • Lack of sleep.
  • The swing effect of weekends with alcohol.
  • Diet, fiber and all of those essential food things.

I don’t want to wank on about these things individually, because that’s not compelling territory (is anything on here?). Even in my morose state, I still find it fascinating looking at how they’re collectively dumping on my mood. I know I feel better when I’m active, eating healthily, getting enough sleep, not drinking coffee, minimizing alcohol consumption and enjoying regular intimate connection. These things haven’t happened to my liking in the last week or two and I’m feeling the strain.

The first place this hits is feelings of self-worth. Lacking in discipline makes me feel less successful as an entity. All of the food/diet/substance stuff makes me feel pathetic for relying on consumption to shape my mood. I feel useless for not being able to limit myself correctly or steer back onto the right path. I feel greedy or gluttonous through not having a natural inclination to know when I’ve had enough. This flows into those well-entrenched body image issues that sit like little mind callouses at the core of my ego. I feel gross, which makes me feel undesirable, which once again feeds into self-worth. Coupled with my lack of success in this polyamorous dating thing (which is more accurately pinned down to a lack of putting myself out there. I can understand that), it’s instilling in me these feelings that I shouldn’t feel like people could find me desirable, so they shouldn’t. I begin to feel selfish and worthless for expecting that kind of thing.

These feelings aren’t helped by the fact that I’m in a relationship with someone who is very desirable in every way. Feelings of jealousy come into the picture, which is natural and understandable. I can see them for the reflection they are of my own self-perceptions, rather than giving them substantive weight. As my girlfriend often says, don’t believe everything you think. She’s right, of course, and I can also rationalise that one of the reasons these situations and attention come her way is that she’s open to them, whereas I constantly shut myself down and close myself off through negative self-perception. I tell myself that I don’t deserve these connections, which makes me retract from them. Even talking about the idea of going out with people to try and “hook up” with others makes me anxious, calling back to numerous unsuccessful nights in my early 20s. The end result would always be the same, I’d go home alone, watching people all around me find connection. This in turn would solidify the notion that I wasn’t desirable, didn’t deserve that kind of attention. So basically, being thrust back into dating also with the added hurdle to potential ladies that I’m currently in a relationship (and it should be known that this is contextual. In no way am I complaining about being in a loving relationship. I’m well aware that it’s hard to even find that connection let alone be looking for others) is causing a lot of these feelings and anxieties to resurface. Timely that I’ve got a therapist consultation in an hour.

So with all of this piling up, it’s making me feel like I’m putting energy out there that’s not being returned, which just leaves me with a lack of energy. I’m finding myself shrinking away from social contact, even though I know it’s probably what I need. Right now I don’t feel wanted, so my brain reflexively tells my heart that I don’t want anyone, as if taking that ownership over my isolation makes it any better. My everything is suffering from a lack of physical fitness. These physio personal training sessions are a pale imitation of the endorphin rush I’m used to getting, yet it’s hard in this state to find the motivation to push myself to achieve more or work outside of those set times. I got to try hanging trapeze last night. Tonight I’m going to review The Antlers (and Death Cab for Cutie, the headliner), one of my favourite bands. At this moment though, the thought of having to be somewhere and having a responsibility to do something just fills me with dread.

Maybe I just really need to poop or something.

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