Friday, June 14, 2024

A Bottle of Whine

Happening this week: Existential Crisis!

"An existential crisis is a period when a person questions the meaning of life, their purpose, and their identity. It can also involve feelings of confusion, anxiety, and stress that can disrupt a person's normal functioning and lead to depression. " This paragraph is AI generated.

Well, it happens a lot. It's incredibly frustrating. I'm not actually aware that this is what it is until I stop to examine it. They say it's good for us to have "crises" but personally, I don't see the value of it.

Meaning of life? I have no idea. Purpose? I thought I knew. I was wrong. Identity? Well, I know who I am but I'm not sure it matters. Normal functioning? I'm past normal these days. Into my 30's I could hop a fence in one jump. Now, I have trouble walking to the fence. I'm two years shy of 70. So, what's normal?

I found this: "persons of higher intellectual ability are more prone to experience existential depression spontaneously," from Existential Depression in Gifted People.

Again, not sure what the value of that is. I'm pretty smart, so I've been told, and maybe that is a gift, but it took a lot of hard work on my part to get to that point. And if having a higher intelligence doesn't protect you from anything, there's not much benefit to it. Well, except maybe make more money, but I know crazy folks who are geniuses.

So, that's where I am.

Here's the thing: I'm tired of crises. No, I think I'm sick of them. Death, taxes, children, bills, and, I'm sorry, people. The game of life is no longer fun. I couldn't stand that board game when I was a kid, but my siblings loved it. I expect I was wiser than my years by a stretch. There were things I knew about life and people no kid should know. Life could stink. And that was likely my first existential crisis.

For almost a year now, I've been sick off and on. Joint pain, muscle pain, massive leg cramps at night, trouble walking, and extreme fatigue. These have been my only companions. Sarah came home in January and helps with housework, but when I try to make my bed, I have to stop in the middle of the process just to breathe. I get out of breath when taking the garbage to the street. And yes, I've told my doctors. No. They said nothing. Really. They moved on and never asked for another thing. I believe it's an underactive thyroid. I've got weak nails and my hair has been falling out for a while now. Yes, I've had the basic test, and it's normal. Although there are additional tests, no one proposed them.

So.... moving on.

Finances have been disastrous. Repairs and more repairs. However, if God wills, there's light at the end of this tunnel. I got help from some out-of-state Christian folks to fix the bathroom problem and took in a boarder. I still have a dozen things that need repair. But my days of doing that type of lifting and fixing are over. I simply don't have the strength now. Even Sarah has noticed.

So, here we are, at the end. Please, have a seat and here's the knife for the cheese. I think you've had enough whine.














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