Hurting More

I am sorry if I haven't been updating my blog. I have not felt like it. I have a hard time writing anything. It is grief, still but I recently started taking Zoloft which has fucked my mind up badly. 

I can't have an orgasm, not easily, it causes aneorgasmia. This is bad for me because, yes, I still feel stimulation like normal, it is that this constant production of fluids and hormones has to be purged to keep it from building up, becoming a focus for an infection.

It has happened before. 

I have this strange feeling, I don't feel like myself. I am sharp mentally yet cannot write. I sleep erratically. I feel mealy-headed. 

I am hurting more in the prostate area. This is related to the aneorgasmia and possibly stress because I am upset that I can't write.

I get confused sometimes when normally, that has never happened. I have a hard time expressing myself. 

This medicine is eroding my mind, it feels. I will ask the doctor to ease off on it to see if the benefit it provides, soothing my hair-trigger panic reaction, outweighs this eroding it's doing to my mind. 

I did shave and took check pictures. I shaved face and body but I won't post any of them if no one asks. 

I want to talk about MeUndies again but now isn't the right time. 

I just feel not up to it. 

Not Forgotten

I haven't been posting because I haven't felt like it. There is a disconnect between my mind and expression likely caused by the new medicine I take for my anxiety disorder. That is pretty much when this started. 

I take my medicine overnight so I don't have the dizzy feeling it causes when it is strongest. 

I was not able to sleep since the death of my father but I can with the medicine. 

I will get back into the flow of things. I haven't forgotten this blog. 

I feel better but the absence is indelible on my soul. I will always miss my dad. 

It has been cold and this is getting old. This isnt the place for cold. I will talk about the weather later, my fingers are too cold for much more typing. 

Problem

I did shave today but I don't want to post the check picture. It was too cold to do it on my normal day yesterday. It was kind of cold today. Of course, this native Texan's idea of cold is anything lower than 70 degrees F.

I have a new anxiety medicine now, sertraline, and it is doing a good job. If you read the past of this blog, you know I used to take citalopram for a long time. Unlike it, sertraline does not make me super-sleepy.

It has all but disabled my sexual ability. It feels like it's not a big deal but I don't know.

I haven't had a bad panic attack since I started taking this new medicine. I will tell the doctor it is doing me good.

I have been able to sleep without panic waking me up like it was before.

This medicine has also all but swept away the grief I was feeling. I am able to remember my dad in a positive way.

I am constipated right now and that is never fun. Err, feel uncomfortable.

Amusement

This most recent thing about the drama with my cousins has provoked my odd sense of humor. Fuck them if they don't want to talk to me any more.

I say Really, think what?

People I don't know in person, they would be amongst them are like flat characters in a story. Background. None of them even bothered to call or text me during the last 15 years of unemployment and that hell time that was my time at wm.

I did not always have anxiety disorder. It developed in that hell time.

Things that provoke it, I can avoid. But what does it matter, really?

In the grand scheme of things, this all will be forgotten one day. Just as people who lived during the early 1900s are being forgotten.

I may fear my elder life but really, what is the sense in worrying about it? I will age, can't stop it. Entropy is the way of things.

I will be amused and say really, think what?

Because what you think.... does it really matter?

Arthelius the Ghost and Marraka have returned from M83 with some cool pictures but the radiation there melted their camera. See, if they thought, what? They would have brought one that is shielded from that. Typical.