Kind of stick with me on this.

As I mentioned in the previous post, this week has been against my usual routine of doctors and therapists. I had developed a fairly set routine with going out on Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes Tuesdays with Thursdays being ‘clean the house day.’

This week, I had Tuesday and Wednesday at home and I’ve had a lot of thoughts and fears.

I think that, before December, I was absolutely fanatical about appointments. Any appointments. All appointments as long as they weren’t online.

Eating was difficult but, beyond that, I was lonely. Desperately lonely.

Going to doctor appointments provided a distraction. The doctors, tests, and everything else gave attention. While it probably wasn’t the right kind of attention, it was attention.

While I wasn’t digging my grave, maybe I was just happily chipping away at it. Maybe I was kind of selecting the font of my gravestone. I don’t know.

But I was starving on two fronts.
– Nutrition (although I still have my reservations about that. Avoiding processed carbs and oils shouldn’t be considered nutrition)

– and –

— Human contact
Let me clarify. Positive human contact.
The multiple therapists and counselors who unintended (or intended) to make me feel like runny dog turds shouldn’t count and was probably a significant part of my problem.

I didn’t want agency of myself. I didn’t want accountability. I didn’t want to be me but rather a ward or obedient servant of someone else. Something else.

I was hurting. Lonely. Tired. Broken.

And I’m still all of those things.

But two significant areas have changed.

* I’m not visiting the toxic therapists and councilors as much. I still see Kara — or did before she popped out a child — and that’s generally mostly positive. Her yoga class is primarily BS but I try to make allowances for her.

* I started to have lunch with the little sister once a week. The face time and conversations provide a much needed meal in my otherwise empty socialization table. I guess I can say that it stops me from hitting that critical loneliness level from before.
——— Although I walk a fine line here. If I feel like she does it to pity me or that I’m dragging her down, I’ll want to stop and I’ll hard withdraw. So far, I’m not picking up on that and, rarely, she’ll haul me along for a bonus trip to somewhere or volunteer to come with me to a far away appointment. Mom has as well, especially since the foot thing. If the drive is more than half an hour, she makes time to come with me.

That is what I need.
Those connections. Positive connections. Not worried looks from Jason or the distinct feeling that people are afraid to breathe on me because I’ll fall over.

I feed, much like food, on positive social connections from people who treat me like I matter. Not that I’m a disease. Not that I’m an open mental oozing wound. But like a person.

I feed and grow on those connections.
Mentally I feel better.
Physically I do (although part of that is probably cause the constant bacteria seroma is gone too).

I’m not well, but better. And, maybe, getting better all the time.

All of these people who are overweight, stuck in front of a screen, and rely on AI for emotional support – — They’re not healthy. They’re trying to fill their body with dopamine pleasured food because they’re lonely.

And that’s what society is rapidly becoming.

Alone.
No family.
Fake friends.