Troebia's Diary

[troebia]

seeing that guy set himself on fire

That was horrifying for sure. The world is so full of senseless cruelty and suffering. I need a friend to get piss drunk with sometimes, just to be able to laugh and have fun without thinking of the dark shadows.

[snoringdog]

The dark shadows are hard to ignore, and they always have been, for me.
But I'd love to have a beer with you sometime!

--------------
That poor fellow had some sort of severe mental breakdown. They say after his mother died, he started to change. Left some writings that lead some of his acquaintances think it was a schizophrenic break. Why would anyone do a "nonsensical" thing like that to themselves?

[troebia]

A lot of people here go to Thailand, then we end up cleaning up the mess a year later.

Thanks for the heads up, MF. It seems I'm caught between a rock and a hard place then. I guess there's always time for doing this and maybe the procedure will become more common in the future and therefore cheaper.

Over here I am returning to a state of constant, elevated anxiety. I don't think I could even blame MIL for this since I'm keeping away as much as possible. Maybe I should buy some new clothes and shoes, as I was recommending to MM the other day, just to cheer up with some good 'ole consumerism. Shit just keeps happening: a couple of weeks ago, dog Nubi ripped a giant "L" hole in his side jumping through brambles chasing rabbits. The vet patched him up and everything was going fine for a week. Since I walked him without the cone collar and also let him eat without it while watching him, one day I forgot to put it on him again and fell asleep in front of the TV. An hour later he had chewed away all the stitches and the giant skin flap on his side was hanging loose again. So back to the vet to staple him back together, and also got a massive telling off by wife and daughter. He's fine now after ten more days. This symbolises why I feel I can never relax fully, never let down my guard.

[troebia]

Now in a state of permanent insomnia. Routine goes as follows: I'll go to bed at 11 PM and fall asleep right away, then wake up at 3 AM, toss and turn for three hours until I decide to take a Xanax. Then I wake up at 8 and try to stay awake. After lunch I'll crash on the sofa for two hours, which is way too long for a good siesta.

It's the permanent sense of hypervigilance and anxiety that drains me. I can never relax and attention span is ridiculously low. Everything seems out of sync. I feel old and out of touch.

[manuel_moe_g]

So back to the vet to staple him back together, and also got a massive telling off by wife and daughter. He's fine now after ten more days. This symbolises why I feel I can never relax fully, never let down my guard.

It's the permanent sense of hypervigilance and anxiety that drains me. I can never relax and attention span is ridiculously low. Everything seems out of sync. I feel old and out of touch.

sorry you feel this way, Troebia. sending you psychic blessings over the internet wires

[troebia]

I'd like to take a moment to reassess my online presence. I thought it more appropriate to share some thoughts about health in my "own" thread instead of replying in other ones. I'm sorry if I haven't been replying as much as I've used to in the others' threads.

Yesterday I was looking at an avocado tree I planted this winter and that I have been nursing with care. It has now sprouted new leaves and it made me happy to see that something I did is working. The simple, earthy things. Maybe I should spend more of what's left on them.

Since about ten years ago, I have noticed a progressive decline in my body. I can't sustain moderate physical activity (e.g. digging, heavy cleaning, chopping wood) for more than half an hour at a time anymore, not because of lack of stamina but because my limbs get sore. My eyesight and hearing is declining, and my teeth are a mess. My back hurts almost constantly. It's like fading away now, not maturing.

But the mental decline is even worse. Ever since my recent experience with vortioxetine and the short period of bliss before I had to taper off due to the side effects, I now know what it feels like to have "drive" and a positive approach to life but it rapidly slipped through my fingers like sand. I go through the motions of well-adjusted living but I feel dead inside. I love my wife but I am so tired of expecting and desiring more physical intimacy. Masturbation has become almost medical for me, like peeing to release pressure...there is no excitement or joy.

Even the "micro-victories" I have described earlier can't compensate the dark weight in my soul anymore. The other day I fixed a home appliance by taking it apart, identifying the faulty electronic component, ordering it online, putting it together and presto. I should have been happy and proud but I still needed alcohol and Xanax that day. Wife suggested I go to therapy again but that feels like a waste of time and money...the elephant in the room (MIL) is a fixture.

Death has become a constant cloud hanging in the sky. Friends my own age have succumbed to illness. There was no justice or reason, nothing they did could foretell what happened. I seem to have learned that death is always with us like a mirror image, like walking on thin clean ice. The recent incident I described with our young dog shows just how easy it is to crack the surface. It could have gone either way. A week ago, a fellow sketcher approached me at a meet: "Remember the girl you drew the other day?" "Yeah?" "She's killed herself...jumped out a window." And nothing in the world seems to change, the sun rises and sets, wars go on and on, the climate is still going down the drain, people still study Italian, we still shop for garbage, we subsist, we eat, we try to fuck. I think I'm not afraid anymore, or so I tell myself. Anyway somebody will inherit my brushes some day.

Again, sorry for not expressing more sympathy in the other threads. I see there are hard times ahead. Some of us have more courage and strength and you are one of them, MF.

[Mental Fairy]

I wept through your post, I felt your words vibrate my thoughts deeply.

A call came today from Donya, she’s gone into a depression like state also. Immediately I dropped what I was doing and went there, got her out of bed, dressed and into the car. I found a different cafe with beautiful foods. We talked, drunk copious amounts of hot drinks while she talked. I thought of you immediately when we went to a local art gallery. I took an image for you as it really took my mind to you. I will attach.

We all age, to some it’s a true privilege, to others it’s a hindrance and mortal duty to continue on for others.

Your presence here has made a large impact on not just me but the others also I’m sure. Individually we have a role in this life and fluttering in and out of each other’s lives in this digital way has a huge impact. Walking into some places or simply seeing something of interest immediately makes me think of one of us.

The weight of your words are real, they are also beautiful. You will look back on these posts in future and see how we bounce through highs and lows.

Carry no shame please of your self relief due to lack of intimacy. Your human. Your body needs the relief as it expels dopamine and endorphins when you release. Much like an ice bath does for me. I’m sure if I did this action while in the ice bath I would never end the mission!!!

I am thinking of you.

[troebia]

Lots of connections to you here.

I wept through your post

I feel honoured but that was not my intention!

We talked, drunk copious amounts of hot drinks while she talked.

I am so envious. My wife has these kinds of friends and she'll return home saying "They kicked us out of the bar, or we'd still have been there."

We all age, to some it’s a true privilege, to others it’s a hindrance and mortal duty to continue on for others.

I already feel somewhat privileged to have come to this age and matured a bit as a person. Faced with mortality, I don't imagine myself soldiering on at any cost just because I wouldn't want to cause inconvenience for others. Life goes on, and I've been at too many funerals where one of the dominant notes is one of relief and closure...liberation, even.

Individually we have a role in this life and fluttering in and out of each other’s lives in this digital way has a huge impact.

It's kind of a therapy I suppose, with no strings attached. There's something very liberating about speaking from one's heart and being heard without any consequence in one's "real" life. Confession: one of the times I had an extramarital affair, I had been chatting and interchanging emails with a woman for several months. We talked mainly about art, poetry and philosophy. We finally decided to meet and practically went to bed right away, explosively, passionately. After the second time that we had fucked our brains out, it was as if we simultaneously crash-landed in reality and laying there beside each other we saw the impossibility of ourselves, "warts and all", each with their own complications and undesirability. The last time we spoke over the phone we laughed about how silly we had been. It was like a fireworks rocket exploding in the sky, and it was gone. But I don't regret a thing.

You will look back on these posts in future and see how we bounce through highs and lows.

I'm on the fence about this one. I once decided to flush out a diary from several years with no regrets. I prefer to be in constant flux and not look back. The things said around campfires ten thousand years ago are lost, but those thoughts somehow pushed us forward to today.

Carry no shame please of your self relief due to lack of intimacy.

No shame, only frustration.

[troebia]

Another diary log entry, for self and others.

On the positive side, I recently visited a newly opened art museum in Valencia: https://www.cahh.es/coleccion/
Let's forget for a moment that this superb collection has been put together by a supermarket chain magnate's wife with the millions earned from the sweat of a whole string of providers and employees strong-armed into economical submission. I feel privileged to be able to appreciate contemporary art. Outside on the street, the gentrification of the inner city is now complete. There is practically no business anymore that doesn't cater to tourism: restaurants, bars, novelty and souvenir shops, bike rentals, AirBnbs and other tourism apartments. You'll hear 20 different languages spoken on a single block of sidewalk. I can only stand a couple of hours of this and then I feel almost asphyxiated. People from all of over the world seem to love this place, though.

On the negative, I am developing a growing visceral disgust bordering to hate of my mother in law. My sister in law spent this weekend at our house and MIL was absolutely basking in the attention of her two daughters who were at her beck and call. MIL has developed a whole language of little whimpers, groans and exaggerated limps to attract a maximum of attention from my wife, and my feeling is that she sucks the air out of the room wherever she is. She is rather limited intellectually and everything for her circles around food, her "pains", her digestive system, family and the past. She'll go on and on about trivial stuff that happened forty years ago, even recreating dialogues. And until I put my foot down, she would describe her bowel movements with absolute relish over the dinner table. Just recently, I've come to think that my wife's growing difficulty to verbalise and "find the words" is partly caused by directing her attention constantly towards her mother: she is effectively living inside two heads at once. Nothing I can do or say can remedy or even alleviate this. On the kitchen table until noon, there's always a tray with the luxuriously ignored breakfast for MIL with meticulously peeled fruit that my wife has prepared. MIL will eventually get up and have a little nibble, and the rest will spend days in rotation inside the fridge until discarded. And more and more stuff like this. On and on.

[troebia]

(continued)
The above rant may come off as envious. Wouldn't I also enjoy having a personal servant if I ever reach the age of 85, and not lift a finger in the daily chores despite being healthy? Laying all day on the sofa in front of the TV munching sweets and farting, permitting myself to comment without filter on anything or anyone passing into view, which is practically all the house from where I lay. Once a week or so I'd pick up a broom and make a few feeble sweeps, making sure to demonstratively groan a little as soon as anyone comes into sight.

No, it is resentment, towards a black hole that sucks my wife's energy away when she could have been more relaxed and even think two consecutive thoughts about something else than her mother. This week she even cried a little after almost failing our Italian oral exam. She's had exhaustive tests done, MRIs, scans, the works, but they don't find any trace of Alzheimers. They seem to put it down to mental exhaustion after a whole life as a primary school teacher. She's retired now, but not permitted to relax...