Gearing up…

Tomorrow is the first of “big days” in my treatment. The teeth come out. The positive is that they’re crowded already so it won’t be much of a gap. I’m already talking funny because I have too much stuff in my mouth. But that’s ok. I’m dealing.

I am finding my anxiety is getting worse, which is weird. It’s all money related because this shit ain’t cheap and the Drs will only deal with insurance in the manner of sending it in. I have to pay out first, insurance reimburses me. Seriously fucked up shit, but I can’t blame the Drs, I don’t want to deal with insurance.

The best part, I’m starting to get back into my head on the deeper topics. Been rolling around ideas about wisdom and truth and how they play out in Biblical stories with that cast of characters. I can’t remember the movie that sparked that thought process, but I’m glad it did because I need to ponder that those things. I also need to get off my ass and email/call my elder so we can start our monthly sit-downs. I have ideas on where to start, but I find I work better with guides, and that gives me a tribe connection – which has sorely been missing of late. Bit by bit I’m disappearing. I don’t know why I feel like that, because I’ve almost always felt like the loner. Even in groups. Some connection that I just can’t see, always out of my reach or sight that prevents me from actually feeling like I am really part of a group.

I just don’t get what I’m missing from that equation. And it hit me hard yesterday. I’m making my way through the Robin Williams part of my Netflix queue, and like 20/20 hindsight of David Foster Wallace, this manner of death casts a shadow on how I interpret his works of late. Yesterday, I watched World’s Greatest Dad. Given the issues he was dealing with in his real life, it made the words stick out all the more. Did he choose that script because of what was going on in his head? Was that his call out for help? Did everyone miss it because it wasn’t in wide release? But the best part was when he told everyone off, walking into the natatorium, stripped down and jumped naked off the high dive. That’s kinda how I feel. Except he was casting off society to join a small group of outliers that shared a love of horror movies and odd psychosis. I don’t feel I have that. Or maybe it’s just the burrowing season of winter that throws me into my cave for self-reflection. Or maybe just perspective of that, and it’s all just a temporary illusion of the season.

When I’m out, I don’t know why, but it feels like I’m walking into the shallow end of the kiddie pool. I think I’d rather be at the meeting of some philosophy club discussing the deeper meaning of Kierkegaard. I would like to enjoy the kiddie pool, but I think my brain is screaming out for exercise, too. Need to figure that one out.

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