Our Daily Sewing

I've got some flower pots outside with sprouts just barely starting to peak up through the dirt.  It's still chilly at night so things aren't growing so much right now.  I'm sure once we're out of danger of having frost at night things will perk right up.

I've got the tiniest of sprouts perking up right now.  Plus, out of all the super-hot pepper seeds I bought, only two are sprouting thus far, meaning these are some seriously expensive plants.  Sadly, none of my ghost peppers are sprouting, just one Carolina Reaper, and one Red 7 Pot Head peppers.

I'm not happy.  The game plan for those pepper plants is to grow as many as I can and use those peppers for jelly and other goodies so I can sell to folks.  I'm hoping to get a month's rent out of them.

I don't like hot and spicy things anymore.  It's no longer interesting to me.  I used to love the feeling of my mouth on fire but anymore it's just not something I want.  Even the smell will make me nauseous.

Somebody asked me to bake a cake for them.  They wanted my special ghost pepper frosting, which is fine, but it really stinks up the kitchen and makes me nauseous.  But they wanted it and they offered money, so I made it.  It's in my fridge right now waiting for this guy to get some time to meet with me.  I really need to get rid of this cake.

I need to do a lot of things.  Writing, to be sure, is among them.  I haven't been writing much lately.  I've been blocked up.  I sit down to write, and what comes out is this boring series of words that just don't have any kind of magic.  No power.

The words don't pop.

I feel like I'm not making the magic that I once was, or so badly want to, and that's making things worse.

The way out of this is to keep writing.  That's the only fix.  Keep writing and keep reading.  Most writers know this but a few don't--writing is 70% reading.  If you're not reading, your writing won't be very good.

Last night, I was reading Hunter S. Thompson.  The problem is, he's fixated on the 60's in so much of his work, that he just doesn't move on.  I'm tired of reading about the Chicago Democratic Convention in '68.  I'm tired of reading about how he ran for Sheriff.

The worst thing about losing Hunter S. Thompson is that we so desperately need him now.  Times are bad and we need him.  But then again, we all really made a mess of things, and a writer isn't going to get us out of that mess.  All he would do is articulate our rage.

We sewed some bad seeds to get us to this point.  Just as I have sewn some bad seeds to get myself to my own ball of mess.

I screwed up.  I screwed up so many things in so many ways, I don't see a way out of this.  I honestly do feel trapped by a dozen different situations.  And every solution, no matter how reasonable and minor, seems like a mountain that needs to be climbed.  Even the tiniest steps in the right direction seem impossible.

I'm so screwed.

I feel like I've gained 20 pounds in the past month.  I am noticeably bigger and my movements are even more restricted because of it.  I need to put a stop to this gain and take control of it.  And even the smallest choices are proving difficult.

This tailspin I'm in has momentum I'm finding very difficult to stop.  The physical issues seem to be growing and becoming worse despite efforts on my part.  Today I tried to go for a walk but the pain in my feet and ankles proved to be too much.

Damn, I screwed up.  I let things get worse and worse.

I sewed the wrong seeds.

Even my chair at my desk, the one I'm sitting in now, isn't right.  It's too short and it has caused me all kinds of painful knee issues.  Yet, I live in it.  I work in it, I write in it, and I do all of my computer activities in it.  I need a new one but I can't afford that just yet.

I will, though.  I'm back to working full-time, which is part of the plan for me to get back on my feet.
That's one seed I'm sewing that is in the right direction.  One out of a bunch.

My sleeping issues are improving.  Because I'm reading more, I'm away from electronics more, and that's helping me get to sleep sooner and sleep better.  Now if I can just stop waking up in the middle of the night wanting to eat my Ruger, because that sucks.  It's a horrid thing to have happen--to wake up in the middle of the night in absolute despair, knowing there is only one solution.

I don't know why this is happening.  When I feel better later on, looking back is horrific.

Everything is connected, I think.  My health, my activities, my sleep patterns, my emotional stability, my writing output--all of it. And no one act of healthy action is enough to change anything by itself.  It takes several choices.  Choices and actions in support of those choices, really.

And every small action seems like climbing a mountain.  Not quite impossible, but close enough.

I really screwed up in letting things get to this point.

I'm pondering starting a new Youtube channel to document my efforts to move forward.  Or decline.  I'm not sure what will happen.  But I figure letting folks know what not to do, not to let yourselves get to this point, is important.  Or maybe it'll stand as a record of just how things ended and what the final days looked like.

That sounds melodramatic.  I feel melodramatic these days.  Everything hurts, everything bugs me, and nothing interests me.  My writing shows it.

So what seeds do I sew to fix that?  I'm sure it has something to do with actually leaving my apartment more and having more face-to-face conversations with people.  There's only a couple in this world I can handle anymore.  The rest cause me great pain.

But leaving my apartment is important.  I don't really have a reason to, or no place to go, but I need to do it more.   Perhaps some more time at the park, or just limping slowly along the trail might help.  I'd like to say "what can it hurt?" but the truth is, it'll hurt my feet and ankles a lot.  And my knees.  And my hip.

But that's needed.  And while it feels like a mountain I have to climb, I realize it's just the first steps.  Those are supposed to be the hardest.  For me, the fourth and fifth steps are the hardest, because I know what to expect by then and I know it'll suck.

Something has to be done.  I can't keep living like this.  I need to sew some healthy seeds in my life.  I've made a few changes but they are minor and isolated.  I need to do a lot more before I can arrest this momentum and stop the decline I'm in.  This tailspin has gone on long enough.

I'm frustrated with how bad it is and right now, the pain of doing something outweighs the pain of doing nothing.  Sure, I screwed up, but I think I might be able to fix this.

I cannot undo the other things, though.  I've been unloveable for most of my life and what I am now is not even fully human.  It's a hard thing to say you're upgrading yourself to "unloveable."  But, I'm working on it.

I will say this--there's a monster in the shadows I have to confront and I'm just not ready yet.  But if I don't, then all of this will be pointless.  Addiction is a hell of a thing.

So, I'm sewing seeds of better choices.  I'm sewing seeds of better actions.

I used to have a ritual for starting my day.  That ritual was a bit of meditation followed by some affirmations.  "Just for today..."

"Just for today, I will make positive choices in what I eat."
"Just for today, I will be clean, and wear clean clothes, and look healthy."
"Just for today, I will not tell anybody I want to shoot them in the face or throat-chop them."

Starting a day off with that those affirmations helped me sew seeds daily.  I'm having a very hard time getting back to that.  But once I do, I'm sure things will begin to fall into place.

Or at least it'll stop this tail-spin.