This isn’t what I meant to post next, but it’s what came up just now and it’s done first, so… Nobody’s reading this, right? Good.
It’s been just about a year since I started taking medication #2, and about a month since I stopped taking it. In the intervening time, I’ve almost completely reinvented my life. It is nearly unrecognizable. Medication #2 has been really, really good for me and I haven’t noticed a lot of side effects. To be quite honest I’m not sure what the hell I was thinking, deciding to cut it off, but here we are, and for various practical and biological reasons, starting it up again is enough of a hurdle that I’m not going to start it again without a really good reason.
In the last month I have noticed that the level of noise between my ears has gone up considerably. It is much more difficult to quiet my thoughts and become still. The logical solution is to practice more and get better about it, ie., meditate more regularly and frequently. I already know myself to be someone who does not follow through on things like that; they require self-discipline, persistence, consistence, etc., and I already know that these are not my default position. (The post I intended to be my next post is all about that.)
I just finished a meditation in which I observed a very strong narrative in my internal dialog: that I am letting my life get away from me. Time is passing and I am going nothing with it. I am looking back and seeing all the time I’ve wasted–at least, that’s how I perceive it.
This does not yet exist for me in a transformed way. It is still a complaint that has me. I’m writing to get it out into the open, with the hope and expectation that creating it as something to be transformed will accelerate its transformation.
Who I am for myself is that I am letting life pass me by.
Okay. Bedtime. Perl training in the morning.