Last night I was low. I felt the empty hollow surrounding me. It was one of those nights when I really wanted to drink. Some alcoholics, I'm sure, just like the buzz. Others, I would guess, are just looking for something to fill the void. They are Existentialist drinkers. Giggle if you will. There is something comforting in having that "companion."
But I didn't. Drink, that is. Nope. I brewed some ginger tea and watched "Hopper: An American Love Story," on my computer (link). I'm not really recommending it, though. It wasn't very good. It was worse than that. They censored with a little blur bubble the pubis in one of the paintings. WTF?!? Yea. . . fuck them.
I started to write this last night because I have an 8:00 appointment to get my car serviced, but the writing was morbid, so I gave up. I have gotten up early enough to write a bit this morning. Appointments now cause me anxiety. I haven't had to be anywhere at a certain time for years now. My time has been my own. I've done little with it, but that is a whole other story. There are many factors, some of them noble.
My "low" last night had many factors, too. It wasn't simply chemical. Well. . . everything is chemical, but there were some causative things at work.
I did get a little buzz later in the evening, a text that miffed me in some ways. Flirty? If not, why are you sending me this? If so, why not be a little more. . . "flirty"? I try not to imagine too much anymore. But, you know. . . gotta hold onto something. . . .
Remember I said I was going forth with a PMA--a Positive Mental Attitude? I guess that was horseshit. I think I need help. I saw a meditation class preparing a couple days ago, and the New Age feeling of those careful conversations told me I would not enjoy it/them. Too many "Karens". I have a rebellious nature that doesn't always serve me well. But I know I need something to get me out of the headspace that I'm in.
I won't be stopping the whole "diet" thing, though, until I lose my baby bump. Once I can stand in a t-shirt and see my chest rather than my belly, I'll be good. I don't need six abs. I just need to look better. I've made progress, but there is a long, hungry way to go.
It is good for me, though. . . right?
I'd better get ready. I'll drive to the mechanic, then Uber to the gym. I will need to walk home. It is further than I've walked since my knee became a problem. Here's hoping. After that, I'm stuck in the house until I Uber back to the mechanic. It is not a day to which I look forward.