Thursday, November 07, 2024
edge of madness
I feel myself of the edge of madness: where we near the tipping point before Hooke's law, before the ligament is about to snap in two; seconds before a verbal, coherent and mobile person becomes catatonic forever.I've been trying to build a secure place for myself to build as spokes from a hub, but right this moment I don't feel confident I will succeed at becoming a successful human being. Where will I go to when I am beyond becoming useful in this world once again? Do I belong in a facility that locks me away from society, one that diminishes my intellect with unchallenging activities compared to what I am/was able to do when my health was not under so many stressors?
With this recent dip in confidence from levels that weren't optimal to begin with, I truly do feel resigned to reality, that perhaps I don't need to go on living on this earth anymore: there is no reasonable path to success, there is no point struggling on. Perhaps this body is no longer viable for recovery, repairs will not make much of a difference and are now costlier than they are beneficial.
My parents are suffering tremendous financial hardship to provide for my needs until I can stand on my own. This is not a sustainable model. I need money to see my doctor but each hour-long video consult costs S$378. No matter how necessary for my life, that translates to over 1 grand to my parents who aren't working full-time jobs and are well into their seventies.
Meanwhile I am still struggling with the basic daily activities that have become so unreasonably difficult for me these last few years, a vector running parallel with my separation from J.
I know I can only recover at my own pace and not anyone else's, but it is not a trajectory that exists in a vacuum governed only by my rate of recovery: there is an axis of real life measurables that demonstrates the financial cost sustaining the recovery. Perhaps if time was infinite, slow recovery can eventually mean successful recovery. But it is a graph that is cribbed by the scarcity of resources— I do not have the luxury of time. In an ideal world, I would have financial support that can float me till I recover adequately, a buoy to grab a hold of when the current is rushing against you so strongly. But the sea I am in has no objects afloat and anchored, and I am really near the sharp rocks that the next wave could throw me against and kill me instantly. And I have no energy left to wave for help because it takes all of me to tread water and not drown. Sometimes one ought to call it and surrender. I know I shouldn't, but not doing so is truly an irrational decision.