While Twitter is great and way more addictive and way more interactive, it obviously has a different purpose than the traditional blog.
In the times when I might have truly benefited form writing and putting my thoughts down on paper, so to speak, I haven't been.
The last few months have been hell. Not because of anyone or any situation in my life, but because of my stupid brain. I've developed something I consider existentialgeneralizedhypochondriaanxiety disorder. Somewhere in that jumble lies the truth, but I don't know which is the most prevalent.
I've been convinced I have heart disease, an imminent heart attack, lung cancer, a brain tumor, a failing kidney, and more. Though logic would dictate I would likely have signs of such problems, the anxiety supersedes all of it when it takes hold. Every muscle spasm, random ache or pain, headache or heart palpitation is amplified and is screaming at me through a megaphone. They all mean imminent death. I've been afraid to be alone because I don't want to die by myself. I've had numerous panic attacks.
On top of all of this, I've started to question the purpose and meaning of life. Life is so incredibly damn short. Unfairly and tragically short. I don't want to poof out of existence so quickly. I don't know where we go after this life, and I don't know whats out there in the universe. What is our purpose here? Why are we cursed with sentience, cursed to know our own lives are fragile and ticking down every second of our existence until we're extinguished?
Despite my fear of all things medical, I made an appointment with a doctor, and am now on some antidepressants/anti anxiety medication that I'm hoping like hell can put my mind at ease to some extent.
Unfortunately, at the Doctor's Office, I had to list my family medical history. My grandfather died of colon cancer, my grandmother of a heart attack. My other grandfather has had several heart attacks, a triple bypass, a defibrillator implanted, several skin cancers. My other grandmother has a thyroid problem and is now going crazy. My mother has high blood pressure and diabetes. In great grandparent and further back land, we have additional heart attacks, leukemia and other cancers, and a host of other diseases that took their lives before reaching any kind of average life expectancy. Despite all of this, at least my father seems to be a fairly healthy person.
This all made me realize the cards are stacked against me, and added to my depression.
Last night, I was thinking in the moments before drifting off to sleep that I want to do whatever I can to try to change my life for the better before I become another story in the family of what ailment killed me too soon. I want to become a healthy person. I want to lose weight. I want to get in shape. I want to exercise every day. I want to eat only healthy foods. I want to do everything possible to live as long as possible so that when the day comes, I can be sure I died of some inevitable genetic flaw or old age, and not because I helped myself and my bad genes into an early grave with the way I lived my life.
Lastnight, I had a strange dream. I dreamt that I lived in a large town square. The buildings were all old and run down, and the sky above was gray. Throughout the course of the dream, I hired crews to come in and remodel and rebuild the square. By the time the dream was over we had made the square look new and wonderful and revitalized and the sky was blue. I think this dream was a nice metaphor for my desire to rebuild the way I live my life.
