I had my first biopsy yesterday. I assume that they pulled some tissue from the lower end of my esophagus. I’m not particularly concerned about it and I wonder why. Is it because I learned of the biopsy while reading my follow-up notes? Is it because the doctors did not talk to me directly about it? Or is it because no one mentioned it to me. Dr. Ho did talk with me about the possibility of a biopsy and I knew that it could take up to two weeks to get the result. In the interim, I am likely headed to an ENT specialist for a closer look at my throat.
My health is not 100%. My blood sugar is not under tight enough control. I suspect that a plant-based diet and regular exercise will go a long way toward resolving this challenge.
My get up and go is still not where it needs to be each morning. I really isolated myself over the holiday weekend. While I’m sure that the Christmas Eve party at Auntie Chris’s house was fun, I could not find the motivation to attend. I question whether I’m dealing with insufficient desire to participate in life fully or whether my treatment for depression is not enough. I’m hoping that this is not the case because I’d rather not add any additional burden to my liver and kidneys.
My finances are still a mess. I could see this reality being an excuse for me to keep myself locked away from the dating and relating game. The uncertainty of this game make it largely unpalatable to me, but I believe that my self-concept is a significant factor as well. If I don’t believe that I’m worthwhile and a pleasure to be around, then I can’t expect anyone else to believe this about me.
My perspective on self is not overtly negative; rather it is ambivalent. I’m not tearing myself apart like I used to during the height of my mental health crisis; however, I wonder if I think highly enough of my self to get through most days. I’m still here, so I get through. However, I want to get through in the black rather than believing I was lucky to get through without being exposed.
The truth is that there is nothing to expose. I can accomplish my goals and make a positive impact in this lifetime and in this world as I understand it. I am not those things that other people say that I am. The laudable and the deplorable, it’s all their shit. Not mine. So what do I want to think of myself? Who do I want to become? Who am I supposed to become?
These questions are particularly important in light of the emotional onslaught compliments of She-Who-Will-Not-Let-Go. I’ve been troubled and stunned by her text bombs, yet I am grateful for the miserable lessons they carry.