I've been mulling over the "chronic suicidal ideation" revelation since hearing about it for the first time this past February. It blew my mind that it was even a thing. It blew my mind how perfectly and accurately it seemed to describe this most basic thing about me. It was mind-blowing going back anywhere in this blog and seeing evidence of it all over the place like a poorly covered-up crime scene. 

On the other hand I'm also wary. In processing it like a psychiatric diagnosis retroactively into what I've been writing all along, am I just seeing what I'm looking for? Is it valid if I hadn't identified it before, nor had any of my reads or anyone else I've spoken to over the years? Is it a mental crutch I'm using now for affirmation or to "feel better" about it or whatever reason? Or is it not even for me at all, but whoever else might happen upon this blog? As a recently encountered topic (coincidence?!), it's not gonna make it off the front page so the topic should be quickly visible as an important idea or theme. Well, thanks to this post.

The more I've thought about it, the problem is "chronic suicidal ideation" is only one description of reality, and in one certain version of reality it certainly is an accurate and appealing description of my life. But that's not really the reality this blog intended to describe. I had never heard of the term and if this blog were written with a self-conscious awareness of it, it may have been written quite differently. This blog even started as a self-described "mental health" blog, and if I knew "chronic suicidal ideation" was a thing in psychiatry I may have stuck to viewing my thoughts and experiences through that filter instead of organically as they happened.

As it happened, I think this more or less stopped being a mental health blog when I found mindfulness practice either nullifies or at least superficially checks mental health issues in the long term. I stopped seeing them as issues or afflictions and more as crutches or excuses that could be dismissed and allowed to leave. Common mental health issues went away, suicide didn't; possibly suggesting it never was a mental health issue. It took that form because of external circumstances and my internal reactions – it was the only way available to describe or understand it – but it was already there in a primordial form that predated teenage angst. I served it well carrying it with me in that form out of habit for many years but then it didn't survive mindful scrutiny, it lost that "protection". 

I might describe this blog as having become more about a flawed or problematic internal spiritual struggle which integrated suicide as an existential or valid philosophical inquiry. Being flawed or problematic doesn't necessarily mean there are faults or problems, that's just the nature of my path to learn from. That said, there most likely probably are faults and problems, but what can you do?

The "chronic suicidal ideation" descriptive is important, but it's not that important to me. It's important as far as the psychology goes, and even with mindfulness practice the mechanisms of psychology are ever-present and confounding, if not disturbing. It's important in filtering everything I've written, but it was only an aspect of who I was and not necessarily the most important. If I were to put emphasis on it, I feel like I'd be trying to shirk personal responsibility, that the reason for committing suicide was something other than my own doing; I had a mental illness and wouldn't have done it otherwise or if I had it treated. 

I don't know if it was fate or destiny or karma or none of the above, but there was a perpetual drive towards suicide that I can't quite understand or explain and it would be futile to try. I've tried. It was futile. I lived my life like everyone else made up of a combination of the things I've done and decisions I've made along with how I responded to how the world around me reacted and presented itself and unfolded. Causes and conditions that led to a result. It wasn't something completely out of my control like an illness. There was probably a high likelihood that I would eventually do it because of decisions I willfully made and not because I was messed up or depressed or despondent or without hope. Quite the opposite. And it wasn't easy, either, mind you. 

middle-age chronicles

Whodda thunk that a simple trip and fall could cause so much pain? It's no surprise that the end of youth brings a loss of resilience and longer recovery times post-workout/physical activity. When you're young, you take a dive and hit the deck and your chums lose their shit and laugh at you and post the video on YouTube, but you get up and dust yourself off. If you see middle-aged people or god forbid elderly go over, there may be a better chance there's significant pain involved. I think maybe the older you get, loss of equilibrium becomes more dire for whatever reason.

Well, I guess it depends on the situation. Before this instance, it wasn't that long ago that I went over like a lead dirigible out in public for no reason and it's true I was in serious pain, but mostly to my pride. I got up quick and dusted my embarrassment off, was thankful no Google Maps car was passing by and continued on my way pretending nothing happened. 

This time I fell walking UP the stairs to my apartment so gravity was even in my favor. I didn't fall as far as that time in public. It was just a stumble that slow motion would reveal how it progressively got worse in microseconds. Multiple impact points, the most obvious and immediate was my right knee that I thought took the brunt of it. My left foot jammed against a step, both palms hit the landing trying to break the fall with my backpack getting tossed over my shoulder. The top side of my left ankle was the only place where a little bit of blood was drawn so that hit something, too. 

But the PAIN. When the fall was over after a second or so, I was shocked, stunned by the full-body pain and had to pause because I couldn't move because of it washing over in waves (mind you, I still had the presence of mind/YouTube awareness to look up and around the stairwell to confirm there was no camera in sight). Not wanting to be seen like this if a neighbor happened to be leaving or coming home just then, I pried myself up and proceeded limping to my room and tended to the knee which looked like there was a major contusion but just turned out to be some dirt and took an Advil for the pain. In short order I determined the fall was nothing and dwelling any more upon it would be symptomatic of chronic hypochondria.

The next part I don't understand. Two full days later (of normal activity) the pain in my left big toe which had jammed against the step in the fall bloömed. The pain and the swelling probably indicating a fracture. If it is a fracture, why would it take two days for the effect to manifest? Psychological? The pain is incredible (befitting a fracture), but why didn't it hurt like this right away? 

I took Advil, first one pill and then two, but the pain didn't go away and if it wasn't going to work I decided to not waste it and not take anymore. Then the next day without Advil the pain was ridiculous, just moving my foot or changing position was excruciating. I tried the Advil again and found that it was working just fine, it's just that the pain was so intense that ibuprofen could only dial it down, not eradicate it. It still hurt, I was still limping on it, but at least I could manage moving around. That was a huge relief. 

With the big toe swollen like a mini sausage, I couldn't wear sneakers for a few days. The first time I tried, I took one step and immediately switched to Birkenstocks. No brainer. Fortunately Taiwan isn't as fashion-forward as the U.S. and there's no career/social life-ending taboo against wearing socks with sandals. Even if I weren't already wearing socks when I switched footwear, I'd rather not have Birkenstock shaped tan lines on my feet. If my fellow Americans are fine with those tan lines, well that's an idiotic look, too, btw. Me, I don't care what anyone thinks about the way I look wearing sandals with socks, but Birkenstock tan lines I'm the one who has to look at and one annoying summer to autumn to winter until they finally faded was enough.

I gotta admit it's annoying and frustrating having to deal with this physical pain at a time when I would prefer to just cruise unperturbed towards the purported end of this life path. It's more annoying than the two incidences of knee pain in the past few months because I don't know what caused that, whereas this was my own unmindful, clumsy undoing. But actually it's a good reminder of how fragile this physical body is and that it's pretty much downhill from here. Actually this is a great reminder of the nature of the body and I should be treating it as part of my path. 

In fact, there have been several things popping up in my daily life recently that I would do well to consider challenges on my path. Not on my path, but as my path. I should consider these as final tests of learning the universe is throwing at me, and taking that view I'm not doing so great; could really be doing better. Maybe not tests because then I'd be failing. More like reviews of what I should have learned and mastered and should continue to try and drive home.

Like little money things. The irony is so rich that I'm finally running out of money and all of a sudden (really!) I'm losing little bits of money right and left on random, trivial things. It's not about amounts (negligible), and the specifics are so random and petty as to be absurd and even embarrassing to mention. But the fact that they're happening and I'm noticing and getting a little bit wtf? annoyed instead of laughing at the big joke means I should probably be paying more attention to something! Come to think of it, the amounts are mostly in the range of what I should be willing to give to panhandlers. And there aren't many panhandlers in Taipei, but I came across one about a month ago and thought about it but ultimately failed to lighten myself of coinage. I don't know if that's it, but why not? That's the path for you.

Other things I've noticed popping up for improvement include being unpleasant or feeling like I'm being unpleasant to random people (lack of compassion); having at least one moment every day that puts me in a bad mood (bad attitude); not being able to smile just because I'm here and breathing without feeling sarcastic. It keeps turning into a smirk or a sneer whenever I try (negativity). If the aim is to be joyful at the end, it's much more convincing if I can learn to be joyful leading up to the end.

One last dip into winter, nothing unusual. Dreary, rainy, highs in the low 60s (cold for the sub-tropics); if it was like this for a week or more in January or February, it would be winter in all its miserable glory. But after a smoggy but sun-speckled week in the 70s and 80s and later this week rebounding in that direction, this is just a chilly aberration. Refreshing even. As days hint at warm and muggy, nights become indecisive regarding getting under the covers or laying on top, often starting above and then slipping under as the night progresses. These may be the last days of comfortable diving warm and snuggly under the comforter for the night. 

I want my cold water shower certification, I think I've earned it. I'm practically jaded about getting under a cold water shower now. Granted half my showers are still with stolen hot water remnants from my neighbor and the cold half of showers aren't nearly as bad with winter coming to an end. I no longer jump into them screaming like a girl and rush like a flailing cat to get out. I be like yo! I'm bad, just chillin' under cold water. I don't suppose the Boy Scouts have a cold water shower badge. I do suppose we could guess how it would be certified and by whom, those scoutmasting letches. Not Boy Scouts. Unemployed Middle-Age Scouts? Of America.

I had a reoccurrence of the knee problem I had a few months ago, suggesting it may be something chronic. It's a bad enough pain that if I had a longer term outlook on life I'd probably get it checked out medically. I even looked up the kind of doctor I'd probably want to see (骨科 (gu⠂ke) orthopedic) and started keeping an eye out for clinics in my neighborhood with those words, but stopped not seeing any and realizing I don't have a long-term outlook. I was just checking out of habit. If my teeth start bothering me my neighborhood seems to be the epicenter for dentists (牙醫). 

It didn't really bother me this time, knowing it would go away. It was that doubt before that had me freaking out, wondering if it was something permanent. Looking back, why would I think that? I dunno, paranoid pessimism perhaps. This time I even kept track of it for the data. I felt it start to stiffen late Tuesday. Wednesday I couldn't bend my knee enough to even ride my bike, lord knows I tried. Wednesday to Saturday were maximum Advil days (no more than 6 per 24-hour period). Sunday I only took Advil in the morning and after that it still hurt, but the agony requiring Advil was over. This morning I was finally able to force my leg into my usual half-lotus position for sitting (instead of with my left leg hanging off the edge) and now I have full-range of motion with only a very tolerable, lingering pain.

follow-ups

. . . I had braced myself for a long, cold, bitter winter with actually little evidence or suggestion by meteorologists to justify that expectation. I was just pessimistically bracing for the worst, hoping for better and fortunately after those two cold blasts early in January, at least one of which was Siberian, it hasn't been that bad, spasiba. Daytime highs, which are my standard gauge of the days in general, have been up and down but never as cold and with plenty on the mild side. I looked back at what I'd written about previous winters and this year is no where near as bad as Taipei could get. My nerves and psyche would be shredded catatonic if it was like one of those winters, especially with no hot water. 

. . . I've adapted alright to no hot water, helped by no sustained cold winter temperatures. It's still not pleasant and I still bifurcate my showers, even when I can't siphon hot water from my neighbor, to minimize being under cold water at any one time. When I do tap his hot water, I try minimizing any effect on his showers by waiting until I hear his water turn off. I can still get sufficient hot water for my needs for a short while afterwards. Hopefully there is zero effect on his showers and therefore no reason for him to do anything about it. Interdependence in action perhaps as I'm being considerate towards him but for selfish reasons.

. . . That fine line between "showing restraint" and resisting alcohol consumption became a slippery slope of itself towards resistance and I don't think I've gotten too nutty about it. It's no great achievement, just preferring to lean towards not drinking when it comes to mind. But I'm not that strict about resistance and alcohol levels in bottles still steadily decrease, just not as fast. Under my new regimen of "can I say no to this?" I'm drinking maybe half what I was. It's probably more complicated than that. The effect on my gut was incredibly quick, though, improvement within days and I don't think it just happened out of coincidence. This is attributable to the alcohol drop-off. Do I feel any different otherwise? Not really. Can I fall back into it? Easily, I'm not fooling myself about that. 

. . . I'm willing to backtrack a bit on my disparaging suggestion regarding the mental health industry and their inability to treat something like "chronic suicidal ideation". My inability to even imagine how they would go about treating it is probably more indicative of my lack of imagination (and professional education and training) than their ability to target strategies for treatment for whatever comes their way. 

. . . Still nary a thought of going to the bank. I don't know if I've gone past the point of no return, whereby if I went to the bank today funds would not come through before current remaining funds ran out. I don't care, I'm not thinking about it. I'm assuming I'm past the point. I've been bracing myself mentally and conditioning myself to conjure and maintain cognitive dissonance whenever I feel comfortable on the day-to-day conveyor belt of habit and routine: This is not going to last, everything must and will change. Many elements in my surrounding life have already shaken up senses of perpetual comfort, now it's just me that I have to work on and just keep myself off-balance instead of being complacent about anything. With the external world I keep adapting and coping with disturbances and changes, but internally I have to shake things up myself and there is no adapting or coping, just acceptance. 

Koji's "WTF? I've Got Chronic Suicidal Ideation?" Blog

A couple of posts ago I mentioned I wouldn't be willing to go through even John's mitigated cancer treatment if I were in his shoes, and wondered if there might be anyone who wouldn't be willing to go through my life if in my shoes whereby my supposed suicidal leanings were treated as purely mental health issues. By total coincidence, I found a blog soon after by someone who seems to have a similar baseline regarding suicide and has dealt with it by taking the mental health/psychiatric route. 

Her blog description mentions something called "chronic suicidal ideation" which raised my eyebrows. I never heard of that and did a search to see if that's an actual thing and the jury's still out on that. It never even occurred to me that there might be a clinical term for how I am, and I have to admit that does pretty much describe it. It's just a fancy-schmancy term for "thinking about suicide or committing suicide often, if not all the time", and to me the implication is that it's just there as a condition. In contrast, suicidal ideation that is not chronic is triggered by something, certain conditions in a person's life. 

However, I don't think that's the way the mental health profession sees it. It's not an independent condition that's "just there", that developed as its own pathology, rather it's a symptom of something else, usually depression among other possibilities. So they treat the patient for depression and impress upon the patient as being depressed and if the depression is treated successfully, then the symptom of suicidal ideation will go away. And truth to tell, I can't even imagine how "chronic suicidal ideation" could be treated otherwise, so I'm not faulting the mental health profession. 

That being the case, whatever "chronic suicidal ideation" is clinically would have little to do with me and vice versa since I'm not convinced I'm depressed. I amuse myself with the scenario of mental health professionals trying to convince me I'm depressed because I think of suicide or committing suicide often, if not all the time. That's just the way they think; not wanting to live means you're depressed full stop period enter send like subscribe and leave a comment. Depressed doesn't necessarily mean suicidal, but not wanting to live your life (under any horrific condition) automatically means you're depressed, no separation. John actually covers the absurdity of the mental health profession regarding "dying with dignity" suicide laws and depression.

Not quite so amusing is this blogger who thought of suicide and identified with it at the tender young age of five before all the psychological ramifications could be understood or appreciated from a developmental point of view. I don't know yet what happened after that realization, but perhaps as she got older she was bothered by the thoughts and sought psychiatric counsel who promptly pidgin-holed her as depressed, treated her as depressed, thereby convincing her she was depressed. I have to be careful not to sound too critical or cynical because maybe she is clinically depressed. If an alternative was to turn out like me, I can't really say I'm in favor of that either (except for myself, of course). 

I'm only at the start of this person's blog so I only have a slice, a myopic glimpse of 10+ years of her blogging and I'm not saying anything beyond this little that I've read. Trying to be as safe and objective as possible, no judgments, at the beginning of the blog (2009) among the other things happening in her life: 1) she's seeing a psychiatrist; 2) she regularly takes meds which are constantly being tweaked and dosages adjusted; 3) she sees herself and identifies as mentally ill. She's crazy, and sometimes I have to remind myself to read her through that filter which I hope is not patronizing or condescending. 

I'm not going to comment or suggest anything regarding her condition possibly having been perpetuated by the mental health profession telling her how she should view herself. Oh whoops, I just did. But really I'm not drawing any conclusions and, again, maybe the mental health professionals are right in how to treat her. 

I'm just glad I wasn't shunted into the mental health juggernaut. I'll take my chronic suicidal ideation as it is without the help and hope of recovery through psychoanalysis and a cocktail of big pharma prescription drugs that psychiatrists are probably paid to push, thank you. Help, sure I'm hypothetically open to "help" if chronic suicidal ideation is addressed as the primary condition, but otherwise I'm not willing to submit to their normative formulations that depression has anything to do with it. They'd probably tell me to go back to the monastery then! Fair 'nuff. That's probably the only advice from the psychiatric profession that I'd take seriously.

I wasn't at all serious when I rhetorically pondered someone not willing to go through a lifelong fixation with suicide, implying they would've committed suicide already. And it really was coincidence that I found this person's blog. I'm still trying to make my way through it, but it's a bit of a slog for various reasons. It did, however, answer my rhetorical question. She took the psychiatric path treating chronic suicidal ideation as a purely mental health issue and she didn't commit suicide. She accepted being depressed and being prescribed drugs to deal with it. So is it also safe to say . . . she wants to live? She constantly thinks about suicide, but also wants to live? Or is that me? That's rhetorical, too, since if I wanted to live doesn't matter anymore at this point and I'm fine with that. On the other hand, there still may be people who were not willing to put up with it and did check out early, and not surprisingly there's no testimonial blog to be found. 

It shoulda been a no-brainer. If the broken space heater was the "actual trigger" for depression, then go buy a new one! The reason it didn't occur to me right away is: a) I've long had a moratorium on buying more stuff, new stuff; anything I bring into my apartment I need to have an idea of how it will exit my apartment, and b) I'm in my last few months of money. What I have left won't see out the summer and the sooner it runs out (if I don't go to the bank), the sooner that's supposedly the end of my life, so don't spend frivolously*. The option of buying a new space heater sat in a total mental blind spot. 

* I am aware of the many layers of contradictions and neurotic nuttiness leading to absurd formulations that just don't make any sense. Yet there they are. Story of my life. And I do find them outrageous, dismaying and infuriating in alternating and varying measure. If you were me, I'd bet you'd want to kill yourself furrow your brow, too.

But I decided under these circumstances whereby the universe isn't playing fair and is maliciously and artificially creating the perfect conditions for my personal misery (no hot water, broken space heater, possible record-breaking brutally cold winter with constant clouds and relentless drear . . . coincidence?! I think not), I felt justified in bypassing my own neurotic rules and at least go and price new space heaters. I went out with the aim of buying the cheapest one possible that will make showers bearable. I got one for a little over US$30 and is less than half the wattage of my previous one, but it'll do. It'll have to. I won't complain and I'm still armed with the attitude of treating the misery as practice. Actually, it's of minimal effect with limited range depending how cold it is, but I don't want to understate the importance of at least being able to take the edge off the chill at key times. 

It's still definitely better than nothing, but I think the most important thing is that I took control of the one thing over which I had control. If I had continued to treat the loss of the space heater like the water, weather and Siberian blast (literally), as something I couldn't do anything about, I could've risked falling into a hole of hopeless, helpless despondency. I'm not so confident about my mindfulness practice being able to ward off despair and realize it's only temporary and will pass. It's possible I would see it as an undeniable disruption of the day-to-day conveyor belt whereby all avenues of coping to maintain a modicum of comfort and stability would be gone. 

And it's only early January; winter is still a long way to get through. I bring myself back to my breath and focus on breathing and calm. It is only a little bit of comfort to see next week's forecast with several days in the 70s and sun. The temperatures then go down again perhaps suggesting a possible rollercoaster of a season. I can't project how my psyche will hold up or whether my resistance and mindfulness practice will fail and accept all my efforts have gotten old and I'm too exhausted to try to maintain them. I'm not that tough. I hope I remember to remember it's all alright. Otherwise it's narcissistic ego-attachment. Let it go.

Whoa, dude, I'm being hit by a nasty bout of depression. I know I've written about experiencing depression in recent memory (meaning a few years) since it's rare by my reckoning. When it happens it's confirmation, to me at least, that I'm generally not depressed. There's a big difference. To me at least, if not how I sound.

To catch things up the past few weeks, my left knee appears to have pretty much mostly healed from whatever that was, but the sciatica still dogs my right leg from time to time; not too bad, doesn't contribute to depression, just a limp. The weather has no doubt been a contributing factor in the depression. There were maybe three days that weren't gloom and drear and with temperatures creeping into the low 70s and pale sunlight fighting a losing battle. But that long-range forecast predicting cold temperatures right around New Year's was not only spot-on, but spot-on with a Siberian vengeance with probably record lows on New Year's Eve. I'd be surprised if records weren't broken or matched. Cold contributes to depression with not a promising forecast.

Contributing factors aside, I'm gonna attribute the actual trigger for the depression being my space heater breaking. A few weeks ago I tried out pointing my space heater into the bathroom during showers and it helped mitigate that misery to the extent that I didn't give a second thought about using it every night since then or what it might be doing to my landlord's energy bill (I don't pay it directly, but I still feel bad since he's my cousin's uncle). Using the space heater made me think I could get through this. Whatever however shit it was to plummet myself under a cold shower, there was that steady flow of warm air making it bearable and which was especially appreciated when I was done and temperatures only rose at that point. The space heater breaking was the universe laughing and telling me to go fucking kill myself already, daring me at this point. The universe has no qualms laughing at the big joke of my life and making it worse in the pettiest ways. So the universe is not so much #worstlandlordever, and more the model of #sadisticthirdworlddictator.

I have no problem putting a theoretical, ideated suicide (i.e., not to be taken seriously) back in the cards on the table, except one principle I hold to is depression can't be a contributing factor towards suicide. If I'm feeling depressed, I'm not going to do it. Clear out the depression and I'm good to go. I am fighting the depression with positive thoughts and energy and happiness-generating meditations. It's all part of mindfulness practice. Ironically, a contributing factor in the depression is feeling that my practice has been going no where, but then countering that by identifying that as subjective with limited validity; don't worry about it, just keep practicing. 

I don't know if it's just me and my personal version of mindfulness practice, but depression can't crush a turnaround in positive mentality and realizing all of these conditioned things shouldn't be taken as real, fact or substantive. Unfortunately, I also think a part of my method is what I mentioned before about getting angry to cope with situations. I recognized getting angry may not be ideal as any sort of weapon, even fighting depression. I'm confusing and conflicting myself now, so I'll stop. I don't have a conclusion to which this train of thought is heading.

I only have reasons to commit suicide and letting go of this life, and nothing but my ego-habit and attachments preventing me. All of those contributing factors towards depression are valid contributing factors towards suicide, except depression itself. Good fucking grief. Why can't I be a normal person and just kill myself if I'm depressed and without all the neurotic conditions I've placed upon suicide? Just take a gun and shoot myself, except this isn't the U.S. and guns are hard to come by. OK, buy a portable barbecue grill and burn charcoal in my bathroom leaving one of the small windows above open to clear out the carbon monoxide so no one else is affected. But I don't want to leave a body. I don't want someone to find me and have to deal with a body. Why? What the hell is wrong with me? But it is absolute, I won't subject anyone to that. 

Oh, Happy New Year, btw! 2021, yay!

I will mention that a superficial way of dealing with depression has been in the mix CDs I've made for every year I've been alive. As geeky and pointless that may seem to anyone else, there's nothing like being able to put on a CD that was personally curated by myself and guarantees every song and segue is an uplifting bop of appreciation of beauty, groove or emotion. I guess it helps that the one enjoyment I have in my life is listening to music. Obviously it wouldn't help anyone who doesn't care much for music. But I highly recommend that sort of project for its therapeutic benefits in both making them and in listening to them in the lowest moments.

Finally, I need to own up to a mistake I made trying to be clever in my previous post. I referenced the song "War" and then thought I was being clever by referencing the song "Low Rider" thinking both songs were by the same artist. They aren't. War is by Edwin Starr and Low Rider is by War. So you can see how I got into trouble; an honest mistake. Why I would think "War" was done by a band called War simply went over my head. Well, Japanese all-girl punk band Shonen Knife wrote a song called "Shonen Knife". That even made it onto my 1991 mix CD.

There's nothing like an infirmity to make you feel old, but those kinds of reminders are simply natural occurrences that come with age and everyone eventually experiences them. More relevant to my situation is that there's nothing like an infirmity to disrupt the conveyor belt of routine that gets me from day to habit-defined day. 

What I think is sciatica in my right leg has been behaving as expected, sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn't; sometimes it's a low-grade dull pain, sometimes it's an exhausting, distracting sharp pain. Sometimes it feels like a nut, sometimes it don't. It's annoying, but in terms of degree of pain it's nothing compared to whatever's going on with my left knee, often overshadowed by it. The knee will hurt so much that sometimes I'd look to see if my right leg hurts and with a bit of concentrating, yup, there it is. 

Mind you, these are two different pains in either leg, making for two different types of limp if they occurred individually. When the pain in my right leg is just dull, that just slows me down. When it's sharp it causes a severe limp. The knee is mostly problematic when I have to bend it, so on stairs or anything even slightly uneven. At first it was so bad that in getting dressed I had to lay out pants on the bed and then slide and worm my way into them. When the pain in both legs peak at the same time, I avoid walking in public lest I look like a total spaz or a drunk on a pirate ship in a storm. 

The knee is very slowly improving with help from upping the dosage of Advil. When I said before that Advil had no effect, I was taking it how I usually take it: one pill and expecting whatever pain to go away. It finally occurred to me to up the dosage to two pills three times a day, trying not to go over the bottle recommended do-not-exceed-6-pills-in-24-hours-unless-directed-by-a-doctor. 

I still have a lot of ouch, my knee doesn't bend that way moments. Only it's supposed to bend that way, that's the purpose of the knee otherwise what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Advil dulls the pain enough to improve range of motion and allows me to ride a bike. Oh, and by the way I wasn't simply being a total geek by setting the seat on my common street bike high for more power. After the stem broke (because the seat was set so high) and I stuck the seat post directly into the stem tube, placing it at the lowest possible position, it was very obvious how little power there is in not being able to extend my legs. Now, an after-effect of the stem breaking and riding a bike with the seat at the lowest position (low rider?) is that I have to bend my knee more than if the seat were set high, and even with Advil I ride aware that there is pain if I bend it too much. But at least I can do it.

I'll still be optimistic and take improvement for what it is. Improvement hints this is something that will go away by itself. Even though its cause is a mystery, making it difficult to gauge the outcome, it's probably, hopefully, not a permanent or chronic condition like gout. I'm very glad that when I asked my sister-in-law to send over a bottle of Advil a couple years ago she unexpectedly sent a jumbo-sized bottle! At the time I didn't think I'd ever go through that much Advil, now I'm hoping it's enough. 

All this griping makes me feel like such a hypochondriac. I write about physical or physiological ailments like they're some big production, but then they go away and nothing ever comes of them. They disrupt the comfort of the day-to-day conveyor belt as I'm forced to focus on the pain and not wander beyond my immediate neighborhood, but it's only temporary. If it wasn't only temporary? . . . I don't know. The thing is that I want the conveyor belt to be disrupted to spur me on to greater things (death is the greatest adventure), but it seems all my efforts and energy are towards desperately maintaining the conveyor belt (mundane living). Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't are.

mizerable daze

The weather oracle has already declared this to be a La Niña winter and the long-range forecast for Taiwan is that it will be mild until the end of the year, and then temperatures would plunge after New Year's followed by a long, cold, bitter winter (of course Taipei is subtropical, but that's how I read it). I remember cold, bitter winters over the past 10 years because I would bring cold weather stuffis back from New Jersey because of them. Below average winters aren't pleasant, but at least I should be sorta prepared for them.

And that "mild until the end of the year" is turning out to be no comfort as Taipei has just had two solid weeks of gloom and drear when it wasn't outright raining, which it has a lot, and at least another week and a half of the same according to the forecast. Weeks and weeks of this kind of weather is also in my experience here, notably my first two winters. It seems every kind of worst winter weather is being dished out all at once this season, perhaps the universe's answer for Taiwan avoiding the worst of the CCP pandemic and making sure 2020 sucked for everyone!

Adding to the personal suckage of 2020, one of the two major hypermarts near my place closed at the beginning of the year/pandemic. It was the closer of the two and was in walking distance for alcohol runs during extended rain periods. The remaining store isn't too much farther away in the opposite direction, but requires going by bike. The result is that whenever there's a lull in the rain, I do an alcohol run and accumulate a stock to last as far into the rainy period as possible in case it turns into constant rain. So far there have been enough lulls to consistently maintain over a week's worth of alcohol. 

Even more suckage is developing sciatica in my right leg. Somehow I immediately knew it was sciatica when the pain started (the word just came to me) and was able to confirm its likelihood with a web search that described it exactly. It was pain that was both dull and sharp and I couldn't pinpoint where on my leg it hurt, it was just the whole turkey leg. The description of a "radiating" pain rang true. And since it's a nerve issue, there's nothing that can be done about it but wait for it to go away (similar to the ridiculous issue I had with my cervix long ago).

I expect the pain to simply go away as that seems to be my karma (pattern/habit) my whole life. Same with the pain on my left knee that has developed in the past two days. That's too soon to worry about and I'll finish off the glucosamine I have left which usually takes care of knee pain. Only a little disturbing is that Advil seems to have no effect and it really fucking hurts (not quite as fast as "sciatica" came to mind, "gout" became a possibility). It's far worse than the usual glucosamine-cured knee aches and hampers mobility. Outwardly, sciatica only slows down my walking to thinly veil a limp. This knee pain has shown effects on walking, stairs and bike riding; makes me look crippled, even on bike. 

And then there are the cold showers as mercury continues to descend. Even no where near the depths of a forecast long, cold, bitter winter, cold showers aren't pleasant. I'm still mindfully gauging my emotions at the lack of hot water while in the shower. I scroll through my range of emotions, wondering what I'm feeling. I know what I'm thinking; I'm thinking at least I'm not in the Siege of St. Petersburg, at least I'm not Jewish in the Holocaust. I'm only at "abandon ye all hope of hot water", but how do I feel about that? OK, cold. I feel cold. That's not what I mean. Frustrated? Wronged? I don't deserve this? Injustice? Violated? Tempting, but no, none of those.  

How am I supposed to feel as I jump under the cold shower? This sucks!, yes but that's not a feeling, it's a fact (or an opinion depending upon who you ask, i.e., someone who isn't directly experiencing it). Holy shit! yes, but that's more an expression of a feeling. What is the emotion behind that expression?

What goes through my mind is "let go of ego, let go of attachment (to comforts), let go of the self (what suffers)". There's something practice-related going on. What comes up in my mind is certainly not the peaceful deities/lights (representing the ground of reality) in the so-called Tibetan Book of the Dead, but rather the wrathful deities that appear after liberation through the peaceful deities is missed. 

Wrathful deities is more like it. Wrath; this is more akin to anger. Not anger at anything or anyone, just a violent and virulent dissonant energy. It helps me get through it. If I wasn't angry, maybe I'd be wimpy and whiny and complain about it in bouts of self-pity, but St. Anger says, "be damned, cold water, it is not you who will defeat me". All the while not knowing it just may (along with sciatica, seasonal affective disorder, gout, isolation and not being known, gastrointestinal issues, alcoholism, etc., etc.). 

Anger has helped me survive a lot along my way. Is that a good thing? It can't be, can it? Anger and negativity feed each other. But I'd posit negativity as a general or background state – that's not good, it just taints and sours everything. Anger, when controlled, can be a sword, a weapon, an adrenalin bomb, something you need when confronted. Actually, no, it's not a good thing. I'm probably just trying to justify the "way I am", but it has likely caused more grief than good for me.

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All I have to do is not go to the bank. It's that simple. I don't need to do something, I just need to not do something. I'm expert at not doing something. Don't transfer anymore money from the States and face the fact that all I have left is all there is. It's a little bit like John's WTF I've Got Cancer? blog when he decided to stop chemo. He had Stage IV terminal colon cancer so he accepted statistically that he was going to die. Chemo just gave him increments of extra time to live, but he was never willing to sacrifice quality of life (subjective and fluidly assessed) to live longer. And it was when he decided dealing with the U.S. health care-pharmaceutical juggernaut was too complicated, farcical and frustrating, and that the emotional, mental effect on his quality of life was intolerable, he said 'fuck it', no more chemo. Even when the drugs came through, he was resolved to not take them. Fuck it. He was done with all that.

I think I've reached that level of resignation where it is no longer worth it to keep trying to get injections into my bank account that allow me to live a little longer, just to maintain . . . *this* (you have to imagine me spreading my hands in sarcastic presentation of my studio apartment that represents all my shattered hopes and, um, dreams). Going to the bank and dealing with the joyless and permanently cranky workers in the foreign exchange was always unpleasant. I'm sure not a single one of them listens to show tunes. It was also personally humiliating since it's not my money, I'm just mooching, and I'm constantly bitching and moaning about my worthless life when suicide is my affirmative goal. Even I can't sympathize with myself!

I should now consider the current remaining reserve funds definitely finite. We have loomage. Mind you, I haven't crossed the point of know return yet, meaning if I went to the bank today I wouldn't run out of reserves before the expected 2-4 months for funds to go through. So I'm still just spouting theory. But the more I just don't do anything, it will become reality. All I have to do is not do anything. Don't even think, even though thinking about it does remind me of the miserable experience of going to the bank and how I'd rather not. 

And remember (me, myself) I don't even want to be here anymore, I don't like being me, and any moment I focus on during the day just reminds me how worthless and undesirable every bit of this is (in a non-negative, not-depressing paradigm, believe it or not). Really the only thing I'm attached to is the habit. The habit of being me, of existence. The habit of being attached, the habit that resets every day just to go around and do it again; every day's little annoyances of things not going quite how I want, fixing the bits that I can and bits where they turn out fine, then shower, wash the shot glass, brush-a da teeth, lights out and reset. It's great! Just not my aspiration.

Oh yeah, and the alcoholism. Nothing going right there anytime soon. Or ever at all. You know what? I'ma take issue with alcoholism. I look up alcoholism and read up on it and I really don't fall under the definition of alcoholic. I only accede to the label to avoid being accused of being in denial. But no one's accusing me of anything, no one's even here, so I opine for the record that I wasn't really alcoholic.

Heavy drinker? That's harder to dismiss. I ration a third of a bottle of liquor per day, plus limited dipping into reserve bottles which also happens every day after the third runs out, usually the next morning. I look at a third of a bottle and it just doesn't look like much. But then I asked someone if he thought it was a lot, and for him he said that was a LOT. Mind you, I don't know about now but he was a pothead when I knew him, as much as a Ph.D.-former-NASA-employee astrophysicist can be a pothead. He now sells kalimbas for a living and the Grateful Dead is his favorite band of all time as much as Genesis is mine (he only quit NASA because they shut down their Socorro, NM, field station and he didn't want to relocate to D.C. to stay with the agency). I don't think he was a drinker, but he wasn't substance-free.

I'll settle for heavy drinker. I drink to detriment in that I can't deny ill health effects of alcohol consumption. I'm pretty sure my engorged gut is alcohol-related ascites without going to doctor and facing a bevy of tests saying that's probably so. And I'll attribute my gastrointestinal issues to alcohol, too. Alcohol wreaks havoc on the liver and the liver provides bile to the intestines to help with digestion, so if my liver function is presumably being compromised, then it's not a stretch to think that the gastrointestinal issues are alcohol related, even without an examination and a bevy of tests to probably tell me the obvious. 

On one hand, I play with the possibility that elements in my two previous posts are causal and related. I wrote about something I "shouldn't have" because I don't have a guru and have no idea what I'm talking about, and that could have led to repercussions. Obviously, this is speculation about phenomena not on this physical plane of existence, which would just be plain silly; albeit arguably not too far removed from psychosomatic reactions and phenomena. It's the difference between psychology affecting physical reality vs. spirituality affecting physical reality. We've started to accept the power of psychology on reality; spirituality not quite yet but perhaps in the future when understanding or assumptions are different.

On the other hand, I remind myself that the dharma is fundamentally benign and non-judgmental. Whatever I'm reading into physical reality is my own interpretation and creation and a reflection of my own (spiritual) psychology. There may easily be no actual infractions or repercussions except as tools in furtherance of the primary dharma aim, which is to cut through delusions. The potential problem is attaching to the tools and not realizing they are delusions anew.

There are stories in Vajrayana lore of dakinis or deities appearing to practitioners and scolding them for "doing it wrong" and correcting errors in practice or rituals. They may be just stories to express something about the teachings. To put it in perspective, some hypothetical storyteller or dharma raconteur could look at what I've experienced and subjectively reported in blog and be inspired to re-work it into a story about how so-and-so practitioner arrogantly created bogus meditations without a guru thinking they were methods of cutting through delusion, so some dakini or deity decided to send a warning affliction to . . . whatever; do whatever for whatever purpose. The aim of the teaching would dictate how the story is told. And who knows?, maybe the actual stories that were the sources for the lore were quite mundane. And yet it may still be taught that on other planes or aspects of existence, they are to be taken literally. It might not be either-or how the stories were created and passed down, or even how they're intended to be taught or understood.

From what I've read it appears that a fundamental flaw in my practice is that I don't have a guru, a guide, but that's an intuitive decision I've made for myself. In this lifetime I don't want a teacher, I don't want to look for a teacher, I don't think I could form a relationship with a teacher. Whatever pitfalls I encounter by going it alone I'm willing to accept as part of my path experience. And the universe goes, "Well, OK then". And the fundamental flaw is still there, but also isn't. If that's the decision I made, I shouldn't worry too much about it. I read warnings about dangers, pitfalls, spiritual damage and harm to karma on a subtle level that's hard to repair. But I don't think that's too different from the analogous things on a physical reality level – the things we do in the course of our lives that are harmful on all sorts of levels.

Also from what I've read, intent is of paramount importance in practice. If that's the case (and I have to take it with a grain of salt) I'm good with where I am with intent, acknowledging I still have faults and failings and am no where near perfect in that regard. The part where I have to add seasoning is that I once had an argument in college with a dear friend, Diem, a Vietnamese Buddhist (I wasn't calling myself Buddhist at the time, but the language Buddhism used spoke most clearly to me), over the primacy of intent. She said intent was all that matters, if your intentions are good then you are doing good. That is echoed in some of my recent readings. But for me, I thought that was naive and argued that consequence is also important, if not more important. If you do something with good intentions but fail to consider the consequence and that leads to bad results, you can't say what you did was a good act (that would be delusion). It's an old argument of nuance that was resolved by adding wisdom to intent. Good intent isn't blind, just allowing for feeling good about oneself, but includes and requires wisdom and foresight.

As for why the pain in my lower back, which I expected to go away after 2-3 days, has continued to linger is still a mystery. Is it psychosomatic? Spiritsomatic? At all related? Age related? Am I still missing something I should have learned? That probably goes without saying. The pain certainly has decreased and I'm not impeded in most things. I still can't sneeze, believe it or not. Actually, in the past sneezing has occasionally triggered the pain. My best guess is that sneezing requires healthy lower back muscles, and the way mine are now, whenever I start or want to sneeze my lower back goes, "Nope, not gonna happen" and the sneeze dissipates unrequited, disappointed, unsatisfied *sigh*. Maybe a good thing these days since if you sneeze or cough in public, people look at you to see if you look sick and might have the Xi Jinping Wuhan Panda virus.

Interesting. There is a topic of personal belief I have about Vajrayana practice, a theory actually, which is that this sort of practice, in my case merely inspired by Vajrayana but still applies, requires or involves a heightened sense of responsibility, levity or vigilance; what I've perhaps suggested as the dangers of not having the guidance and security of a guru or teacher. 

It's not a fully formed theory and I had no idea how to approach it. Basically, any sort of practice even hinting or striving for the Vajrayana level is not a laissez-faire spirituality. Personal doubt must remain high and real repercussions should be expected in case of infractions or violations. In the abstract, any idea of disrespect towards the dakini, or feminine principle, or what any human woman potentially represents, is a no-no. Just don't do it or catch yourself and stop. Obviously that's a less of an issue for female practitioners, albeit with qualifications. It's just an example.

Slightly less abstract would be something like losing one's temper. Any approach to Vajrayana practice assumes a certain level of self-control developed through ordinary mindfulness practice supported by daily sitting. Losing one's temper is not just getting angry, which is part of human experience even in Vajrayana practitioners, but it's negative energy unleashed and lashing out, getting out of control. It doesn't have to be directed at or witnessed by another person. It could happen in oneself even alone and there theoretically can be damage done and repercussions, possibly in the form of health problems or instant negative karma that brings about negative, harmful views, perceptions or even actual incidences that might not seem related, but are. Of course, there's the argument that losing one's temper does just as much damage in a non-practitioner, but there's a higher degree of awareness and responsibility of an infraction in a practitioner.

I wasn't sure about publishing my previous post. There seemed to be a risk in exposing or describing aspects of my not-Vajrayana, Vajrayana-inspired practice that I really have no idea what I'm talking about. Then promptly after posting that, I went into an unidentifiable, physiologically ambiguous physical decline (if I had more contact with people I might have suspected the Xi Jinping Wuhan Panda virus that is all the rage in global epidemic circles) that culminated in debilitating lower back pain. 

I'm no stranger to this lower back pain, it's chronic and I've experienced it sporadically for many years. But usually I feel it triggered, I feel the twinge and know right it away it ain't good and spend the next day or so with a heating pad, Advil and Salonpas menthol patches which I always have in my apartment. I'm dealing with this the same way. I'm expecting it to go away as usual, but this does feel a little different, particularly debilitated, like it has something to do with that post. Energy repercussions. A teaching maybe. 

I mentioned physical discomfort and strife and mental struggles like they were big deals, and there's no problem with that from a personal perception view. We feel what we do and if we feel it as shit, we describe it as shit. But this lower back pain puts those physical problems in the realm of annoyances and inconvenience. They weren't "I can't get up", "I can't go out" constant, excruciating pain problems. And this kind of physical pain overrides and overwhelms any perceived "mental struggles or challenges". I'm not dealing with those when I'm mentally struggling to even sit up or lie down or change clothes or put on shoes!

And debilitating lower back pain?! What if the mandala world decides to send me cancer, or a car to hit me and send me to the hospital or a major earthquake? "I can't get up/I can't get out constant, excruciating pain"? Something can always come up and put that into perspective as nothing, preferable even. But this is my Vajrayana-inspired practice, so yes, it becomes a teaching. I don't mean this as a gloom and doom, it-can-always-be-worse-and-eventually-will-be post, but more of a mindfulness, preparedness post, because the opposite side of the same coin encourages positive mindsets and their power and appreciation for things as they are.

It's been about two and a half years since I had a personal landmark realization. I wrote about it at the time, but I don't think I made much of it because despite being a landmark personal realization, it also didn't seem to be a very big deal. Part of it was OK'ing for myself to just maintain my lazy status quo; no dramatics. Key ideas were about the conveyor belt of routine getting me from day to day, accepting that alcoholism was not going to kill me and cutting back as a result (somewhat), and "looming" as a requirement for getting on with my life and/or death.

Looking back, it indeed was a landmark realization that has conditioned the way I've been living my life and applying my Vajrayana-inspired practice, and it has been personally certifiable as transformative. There were struggles, successes, failures – all internal space, mind you. Swamped in karmic negativity, there was a lot of qualified positive that came out of it. 

Two and a half years that went by just like *that*; not unlike how many of the years prior in the past decade also went by just like *that*, basically biding my time, wasting my life by normative measures of the value of our lives. I don't regret any of it, mind you, as I'm not the regretting kind and I don't give a rat's ass about other people's standards. 

I'm quite happy not to be involved or entangled in anything, and I'm grateful beyond words that I haven't taken the path of relationships or, god forbid, marriage and family. My life has become just about keeping things simple, not getting involved, and just dealing with my own issues. My view of the way so many people live their lives is that they thrive on mess and complication and wouldn't know what to do without it to the point it's not only normal, but almost desirable because the mess and complication is so integrated to the pursuits of their desire. And then they still have to deal with their own issues amidst that tumult! Braver souls than I, indeed, but it's just my projection and most likely doesn't describe how they view their lives. Fine :p

My well-being and health aren't really considerations, they shouldn't be considerations when dying and/or suicide is the goal, although I've still found myself caught up in trying not to feel awful physically and avoiding discomfort. That's an attachment I haven't let go of. Dedicated seekers on the path have. On the other hand, feeling awful and physical discomfort is inevitable as a human being and I have employed Vajrayana-inspired practices when they occur. 

Instead of feeling miserable and accepting the feeling as miserable as fact and suffering as a result, investigating the sensation and the judgment involved in its "miserableness", its miserable nature. There's the sensation. I want to call it miserable. Do I really need to suffer because of it? Expanding Vajrayana-inspired mental "Buddha-fields" to understand this is all practice and my mental attitude is a reflection of how well I'm understanding "the result" aspect of practice. If I'm suffering and feeling I'm suffering and define it as suffering, then the result is that I'm suffering. If I experience physical misery but establish the result is that this is a natural condition of being human and how I live my life and treat my body, then a higher level of acceptance is possible and it's not so much an affliction to suffer but an understanding of the natural course of things. 

The mental stuff I've found is easier (who said that? did I just say that?). And I attribute this to years and years of sitting meditation and mindfulness practice. I don't think it's something you can just tell yourself "it's all mental" and write it off. But that might be what it looks like in describing it. Feelings of sadness, melancholy, depression, even waves of them. I get them in their gripping reality, they come up and mindfulness practice looks at them and goes, "what the hell you doing here?". 

I attribute much of this, perhaps, to insight into teachings on the enlightened nature of all things; the enlightened nature of mind, both the subjective perceiving/processing mind and the objective mind projected in what is perceived by our senses. It's taught over and over again in all schools of Buddhism that our nature is inherently enlightened to the point that it's intellectually meaningless (like many things zen), and requires a non-intellectual realization to push through its meaning (including/especially in zen). And once you do, a lot of the mental stuff doesn't make any sense treating it as what it seems like. 

We treat sadness, melancholy and depression as negative things that are undesirable, but that doesn't square with insight into the enlightened nature of reality and all things. To square it requires realizing those undesirable things are still a part of enlightened nature. It's the result-orientation of Mahamudra practice (as opposed to path-orientation of other approaches like zen, none of which are right or wrong; different tools for different people). Sadness, melancholy and depression are all enlightened expression when you don't attach to those concepts being what they seem to be. 

Great! Fine! Faboo! What about "looming"? I don't know. I don't know if I'm facing a reckoning in 2020 or if nothing's going to change despite the perpetual feeling that something has to. I've recently been taking to heart the saying "If you're going through tough times, keep going". Keep going and you will get through it. Just keep going. But then what awaits having gotten through it? The saying assumes an end of the tough times. For me, "getting through it" means being able to end all of this. And it's not end of tough times because of ending it all, it's a positive ending it all because of understanding and fulfillment.

I may be facing a financial reckoning, or looming, with just a few months into summer left of finances if I don't do anything. I got sick of those monetary injections into my bank account. I was begrudgingly willing as long as there were no problems, but the last attempted injection didn't go through, and I'm so sick of it that I'm unwilling to investigate why. If that didn't go through, there's no reason to believe any other will, so just stop. They were humiliating in themselves, but looking into why it didn't go through becomes desperation and defines desire to live. This is a terrible, horrible, insensitive analogy, but it's like I have cancer of the life and those monetary injections were the chemo keeping me alive. But I've gotten to the point I'm unwilling to go through it anymore. If the chemo isn't working, why keep going through with it? It's a terrible analogy, but it's my mindset.

I think I'll also attribute to mindfulness practice that this looming isn't sending me into a mental tailspin as it did before. May the Buddha-fields, the mandalas, be evermore encompassing.

All in all, my experience going to the doctor and with Taiwan's National Health Insurance was pretty harmless. Helpful even, in meaningful ways that my experience with the health care profession in the U.S., including family, never was. For starters, it was effective for what it did. My hearing's not perfect, but I think that's a matter of course; physicians aren't magicians.

Each of my two visits cost me NT$200 out of pocket. Six bucks U.S., including prescriptions. I don't know how different it is at larger hospitals or for serious conditions, but with neighborhood clinics, I just presented my national health card, they immediately asked for NT$200, they gave me a number, I waited, I saw the doctor, I picked up my prescription with no further cost. Nifty.

My first six dollar visit got me a diagnosis and ear drops for the impacted wax. The second six dollar visit three days later confirmed that my ear was clean, but since my hearing was still wonky I got a 3-day regimen of antibiotics for the infection. After three more days my hearing still wasn't perfect, but had improved enough for me to delay going for a third visit. I had impacted wax and an infection and they gave me treatment for those. They hinted that the next step would be giving me a referral to a hospital for more sophisticated hearing tests. They had done all they could. 

My general belief is that the human body, given time, will for most part heal itself from most non-life threatening maladies. So the doctors having treated my direct and identifiable symptoms to the best of their knowledge and abilities was the limit of what I was willing to pursue medically, and now is the time to give it time; to convalesce.

I figure the residual tinnitus I still have – a bearable, unobtrusive mid-range tone and occasional hearing drop-off – may be the result of deformities in my ear structure caused by swelling from the infection, and that's not anything a doctor can do anything about. I just need whatever ear parts to settle into where they belong to stop the ringing. I can physically manipulate my ear gently and carefully and get clarity in my hearing, and that's evidence that I'm not suffering from any major hearing loss requiring sophisticated hospital equipment to identify.

Not drinking for three days was easy and a bit interesting as I'd have quick pangs that I should be drinking by now, but then remember I'm not supposed to. I also didn't drink for 24 hours after the last course of antibiotics, so yay me. Also interesting was my body wasn't all that happy with the re-start of alcohol intake. But a fine alcoholic I'd be if I didn't drink, so my body just has to deal with not being happy. My brain and body don't have the best means or mode of communication.

I went to the doctor on Sunday and found I have impacted wax and an ear infection. He vacuumed out a big honkin' chunk o' wax the size of a grapefruit (just kidding, more like a desiccated pea) with a tiny bit of fungus growing on it (just a strand) and gave me a course of ear drops to take three times a day and to come back in three days. I went again today and it looks pretty well cleaned out, but since my hearing isn't back to normal he (actually a different doctor, who thought I was Korean so it took a while to break out his English) gave me antibiotics to work on the infection and to come back in three days. Don't drink alcohol or coffee, he says.

Coffee's no problem, I've descended into being satisfied with powdered Maxwell House coffee so that's easy to avoid. It's barely coffee. As for alcohol, I wasn't about to make any promises but then decided a web search was in order. In general, antibiotics and alcohol don't mix but I wanted to know what I was risking. I found a list of antibiotics that are particularly bad with alcohol and then checked if any of mine were on the list. The last tablet I checked includes two on the list and since the side-effects of mixing with alcohol are basically many of the gut problems I've had over the years and went away when I cut back on drinking, I decided to crawl on the wagon for a few days. I don't need to invite those symptoms back.

So now I get to test what I said about mindfulness practice and alcoholism. Great!🥴 Well, it's only three days, how hard can it be? If it's at all hard, I should consider myself full of crap in regard to that aspect of mindfulness practice. *sigh* I'm hungry. Hunger at this time usually goes away when I start drinking. And do I really drink that much? It doesn't feel like I do, but I guess that's what an alcoholic would say. Is a third of a bottle (and a beer appetizer) a lot? A little more than that is what I drink in a 24-hour period. Who am I talking to?

After all I've boasted and bragged (not really) about never going to the doctor, I'm planning on going this evening. Excruciating abdominal pain didn't do it. The possibility of glaucoma and future blindness didn't do it. A plethora of niggling seemingly-health-related-oddities-that-make-me-wonder-what-the-hell-is-going-on didn't do it. Nevertheless, it should come as no surprise that what's doing it are symptoms suggesting possible "pulsatile tinnitus", according to a cursory DuckDuckGo search (trying to avoid using China-friendly, "evil is swell", internet-monopolistic Google). 

Something's messed up in my right ear and I can hear my pulse, accompanied by tinnitus which I chronically get having supposedly been a rock musician, as well as occasional pain and hearing loss, which I don't chronically get. It was something I expected to go away, but after a few days it persists and although some websites say it should go away in a few weeks, others warn not to ignore it and get a real diagnosis. In this case, I'm gonna err on the side of caution and not wait "a few weeks" for it to sort itself out before getting it checked out.

Deciding to plan to go see a doctor is no minor source of anxiety, mind you; the least of which is just the idea of seeing a doctor. If something seems serious enough to see a doctor, I'm good with that; it's just something I have to do. Anything seemingly less serious, I just wouldn't even go. The anxiety is more about navigating the national health insurance system which I've never done before on my own, and dealing with the language issue in case the office or the doctors themselves don't speak English. Now, most Taiwanese doctors have some facility in English, it's just part of higher education. I think all hospitals in Taipei can accommodate English to some degree.

But I'm not going to a hospital. Much of Taiwan's national health insurance also supports specialized local clinics; step-in places for spot treatment, I think. These clinics can be found on every business street in Taipei, easily spotted by a distinct national health insurance logo, and knowledge of written Chinese will tell what the specialty is. In my case, I can recognize characters for nose-ear-throat (鼻-耳-喉) and I'll go to one of those I've located in my neighborhood which doesn't open until 6:30 p.m. on Sundays. I'm just a little less confident about English-ability in these neighborhood clinics, but I may be able to get by with my cursory Mandarin if no one speaks English *anxiety, anxiety, anxiety*. Also in these situations, there's a distinct possibility there will be an English-speaking good Samaritan who will step in to help translate. That's actually not uncommon in Taiwan; I've observed people will help people in seeming need. 

I'll probably have to fill out forms, so along with my national health card, Taiwan ID and (expired) passport for good measure, I'll also take along my written address if I have to provide that in Chinese *anxiety, anxiety, anxiety*. I've re-memorized my old 2G phone number in case I have to provide a phone number. It doesn't work, but it's easier to give a defunct number than trying to explain that I don't have a phone, which nowadays is akin to having to explain how I'm breathing or that I'm here at all. 

Now, me being me, I have to blow this up to the wider issue of 'what if my hearing is going?'. Is hearing loss an end-game? Indications of oncoming blindness is probably end-game. If I went completely blind, suicide is no longer an option so I would need to do it while I can. Cancer I've already entertained is end-game. Other non-health-related circumstances that would force me into situations that I can't imagine adjusting to (like having to move) might possibly be end-game. 

Hearing loss? All other circumstances that I identify as end-game involve other people and my relationship with the world. Hearing loss is just me and doesn't effect anyone else. But as listening to music is among my last few enjoyments of being alive, hearing loss would reduce quality of living to under, let's say, 10%.

Still, if it doesn't effect anything else but me, it isn't the endgame of an untenable circumstance that I have no control of, but rather becomes part of mindfulness practice of not being attached and letting go. Being able to listen and enjoy music is very important, but that's what makes it an attachment. Being forced to give it up is a mindfulness challenge to that attachment. Mindfulness practice is more important than enjoying music. If the two can co-exist, there's no problem. But if they conflict, mindfulness practice prevails, even if it means a further step towards my ultimate goal of suicide, which is something I both want and am resistant to. 

I've continued to listen to music per habit these past few days. Sometimes the tinnitus is unnoticeable with earbuds and sometimes it's noticeable (can't hear the right channel). I've turned down the volume to prevent further damage and discomfort of high volumes (not that I blast music in earbuds anyway). But if forced to realize that continuing listening to music here on in would mean degraded quality, I think I'd consider it not worth it and giving up that enjoyment and adjusting. It might just be a great relief. If it's in furtherance of a next suicide attempt, then praise the lord it be so. To be clear, it's not an excuse or reason for suicide. It's just removing a lame excuse and strong attachment to keep living.

I've been experiencing depression lately! I don't get depressed in general, believe it or not, so although it's unpleasant and perplexing, it's also a bit interesting in ways. If I may be so bold, my brand of mindfulness practice precludes mental health issues. Or perhaps, rather, what might be conventionally seen as mental health issues are filtered through a prism of mindfulness practice, broken apart and considered in constituent parcels.

When the feeling arose, the first thing I did was identify it and not deny it. It felt bad, it was dark and persistent, it was a thing as real as it could be without being solid and it didn't have an identifiable cause. It wasn't a passing mood or just feeling down. Hello darkness my old friend, you've come to bend me over once again. As soon as the identification was made, mindfulness practice kicks in to investigate it; examine the contours, what is it doing to my thoughts and feelings? Pick it apart intellectually at first and then dispel it logically by realizing its illusory nature and using my brand of mindfulness practice that doesn't allow for it because I have too many other mental afflictions to investigate. Don't get attached to it, don't give it any substance or traction, don't react to it and just let it be and wait it out as if it were a physical ailment. That's what mindfulness practice teaches in this situation, that's what makes it useful.

The manifestation is real and can't be downplayed, only placed into perspective. It arises at times when there's a lull in my mental continuum, between things I was doing that kept me distracted, and it would be exacerbated by the simulated urban hermit situation I've created for myself; the isolation, the lack of connection and relationships, no where and no one to turn to. Tunnel vision, tunnel consciousness, closing in on all sides, tinges of desperation. The season and the sun going down sooner each day not helping; even my age and degraded eyesight contribute. It's hard to describe when I'm not feeling it, and when I'm feeling it, trying to describe it isn't high on my priorities (actually no, that's exactly what mindfulness practice does, blogging about it is what's not high priority).

I thought it may be related to Sulli's suicide. Not just hers, but a month earlier another female singer, Woo Hyemi or Miwoo, was reported having died at age 31, but she was much less known and reportage was sparse and ambiguous regarding the circumstances with little follow-up. That's code in Korea's cagey media that foreigners learn to decipher that it was most likely a suicide. If a young death is not suicide, they readily report the cause, so if they don't report what happened for whatever reason, that's pretty much their way of reporting it was a suicide. And it turns out I know who she was, her debut song as Miwoo made it onto my 2015 mix CDs. A month before her death she released a song under her name Woo Hyemi which I didn't recognize, but I subsequently looked it up after I realized who she was and it's poignantly sad, but quite beautiful.

I have kept both women in mind, including during morning sitting, focusing energies, trying to get my head around at least Sulli's depression and mental illness that led so finally and deafeningly to her suicide. I'm supposedly suicidal, although having failed at it for so long might preclude the claim. I don't have depression, although believing I'm suicidal but failing at it for so long might preclude the claim. But I know I wouldn't commit suicide because of depression, and even during these bouts with it I've re-affirmed that. And oddly, regarding alcohol, drinking doesn't make it worse as one might believe it would. It's actually a comfort, something familiar. Here's that feeling again. I think I'll have a drink. Ah, much better.

But I was having trouble empathizing and understanding what happened to Sulli, and I want to. Shinee's Jonghyun I got. Robin Williams I got. Even Anthony Bourdain I got, just a lot didn't make sense and was counter to what I supposedly got. With Sulli it was why'd you hafta go and do something like that? So the universe, if not Sulli's energy itself, sends this to me to try on for size.

I guess the next step in mindfulness practice is connecting the depression with Sulli herself to try to understand it and generate compassion for her and truly empathize. This feeling I'm experiencing but multiplied by 10 or some greater factor had become her reality. Whoosh! I can only scratch it, but that may be enough. I don't need the full force of what she felt nor how all-encompassing and consuming it must have become. May she reincarnate in peace.

marking time

So I think the seasonal Plum Rains (lit. 梅雨) of May-June have come and gone, and methinks they were probably quite average this year. There have been weak years recently when they weren't all that prominent and strong years when it just rained for weeks on end with no small effect on seasonally affected nerves and lots of chocolate consumption to deal with it (I think there are people who argue the actual physiological benefits of chocolate, opposed to people who argue that chocolate just makes happy). And I think I've discovered that a hallmark of the Plum Rains is their unpredictability against weather forecasts. Has anyone else noticed how accurate weather forecasts have gotten in the past few years? In the course of my life I've always thought of forecasts as general guidelines as to what to expect. Even during my time in Taipei, the guideline has dictated "always carry an umbrella". But for however many years I've noticed forecasts to be surprisingly accurate within hours, with completely wrong forecasts to be the exception rather than the expectation.

Not so much during the Plum Rains. Advanced satellite and model analysis technology still can't factor in whatever the conditions are that make the Plum Rains so very unpredictable. I've had to walk my bike home miserable in the pouring rain twice already because the forecast and my looking up at the sky before heading out both missed it. More times than that I've left my bike home and nary a drop would fall from the ominous cloud cover. I think the Plum Rains are done now, and even with rain constantly and consistently in the afternoon weather forecast (we call it "summer"), there's a certain amount of confidence possible on whether it will actually rain or not in the next few hours I'll be out based on the rain percentage forecast and looking up at the sky.  

So it's summer, and that means it's hot. I haven't determined yet if this is a "hell hot" summer or just a "normal blazing hot" Taipei summer. Truth to tell, I haven't been paying much attention to my environs outside my apartment. I've been feeling unusually cut off and isolated – which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just a descriptive – for whatever variety of possible reasons. I even stopped "forcing" myself to go on 20-mile rides. The Plum Rains contributed to that at first, but then I just didn't feel like it when it started drying up. Once I want or feel the need, I'll go. I wonder if I'll feel like it after the Tour de France starts this weekend. I don't know why, but I just got the inkling to follow le Tour this year. Maybe it's a feeling of wanting to connect with something outside that's familiar.

It's not like I have time for TV, especially since my eyesight has degraded to the point that my laptop screen is too small and I use my flat screen TV as my main computer monitor. I can never just turn on the TV and have it on in the background (like Mandarin news to keep the language in my ears or movies I'm not sure I'm really interested in) while I stare at the laptop. It's one or the other, if I switch to TV, I'm watching a specific program or movie. I do not miss the waste of time that was channel-surfing. So I don't know what I'll do in following the Tour de France. I just know I won't watch the whole thing. Probably not even whole stages. And I should remind myself that watching cycling is inherently boring. You need the passion for the sport before you can watch it, although I'm sure there's an argument for that applying to all sports. Fair 'nuff. I'm gonna stick with the excuse that I'm trying to feel a connection with something about my life from before, despite it being useless, meaningless and futile. That got dark real quick. 

I'm in my third day of a non-digestion/intestinal-related dull ache in my abdomen. It's merely uncomfortable and I wouldn't even mention it if I hadn't recently written about having itchy palms and the surprising discovery that they may be symptomatic of liver problems. Like the itchy palms, I expect this ache to pass in short order, but I feel I should mark these things for posterity. In case anyone's interested in my posterior. 

And again, looking up what the ache might be a symptom of predictably led to liver problem sites, and the liver problem sites were inconclusive with some things that matched and others that didn't. The ache could get intense and occasionally becomes a backache, but that gets intermingled with cycling-related back pain which kept me off-bike for 2-3 days earlier this month. The pain didn't spread to my right shoulder. Other symptoms relate to appetite and inability to eat, but I had those symptoms years ago and nothing ever came out of it. I can now happily eat one meal a day with an optional but usually unnecessary snack from a convenient store. Zero weight loss, I'm sure. My diet and exercise don't explain my protruding stomach, which I described before as a paunch, but per the websites, yes this is more of a protrusion. It doesn't seem natural, like an alien is about to burst out of me. Or like I'm pregnant, which I suppose isn't so far different from an alien bursting out. On the other hand, my father also had a protruding stomach, so it could be genetic. On another hand (look ma, three hands!), he ate three meals a day and lived a sedentary lifestyle with minimal exercise that my mother forced upon him. He didn't drink, either.

Bottom line is that clinically I'd be considered a life-long heavy drinker I shouldn't wonder, if not an alcoholic, so at this point it's not a matter of if, but when. And now might as well be when, but even if now is when, I'm not going to get bent out of shape over it, seeing as I could've seen it coming from years ago, and whenever it does come, it could've come at any time during those however many years ago that I could have seen it coming. And if now isn't when and this ache disappears as I expect it will, well that's just the story of my life. Until it isn't.

Mindfully paying attention to my drinking, I confirm it has ticked up. Not sure how I feel about it, I don't want to overreact. On one hand, it's bad. It does feel bad and I'm not sure I can do anything to reduce it; i.e., not sure I have the motivation to reduce it. On the other hand, that's just what my drinking does. It waxes and wanes. Sometimes I drink more, sometimes I drink less. I'm drinking more now, in time I'll drink less, attsamattafayou.

I do feel it. Mind gets taxed, bodily feel bad, wiped out after drying out. Where I'll draw the line is if intestinal problems return. That's weird. So that's where feeling bad bottoms out? I can accept all those "higher levels" of feeling bad? It's still feeling bad, but I can accept it? This conundrum may be an example of what some Buddhist teachers describe as the burning mental fires. The best said example is that when kids accidentally put their hand in a fire, they learn their lesson and never do it again. But as adults, we're constantly burning our minds doing painful and harmful things, but sometimes we never learn our lesson. So this is exactly an issue Buddhism deals with and somewhere I've missed a memo and need to focus on and figure out.

There's a passage in one of my Theravadan Buddhism books that I'm trying to look up about alcoholism being about chasing a sensation. Identifying and viewing the effects of alcohol as a sensation we're chasing resonated as something that could be helpful. It becomes fodder for analysis and mindfulness practice. What is the sensation? Why am I chasing it? Why is it so hard to resist one more drink, and then one more and then one more? I totally get that part about the sensation. There are times when I'm getting ready to go out and I worry that I don't have that sensation, that feeling that . . . it's not that I'm not drunk enough to go out, but I want to have drunk enough to have that sensation before going out.

Maybe I'm just splitting hairs and what I'm describing and analyzing is that I'm just like any other stumbling, slurring alcoholic. I can go on and on about this and in the end, someone will say 'get in line, yer just another drunk'. 

Oh, and I looked up what I mentioned about my skin itching and welting and it is a thing called dermatographia, skin writing. The article describes it exactly  down to not seeking medical attention because it doesn't seem too bad and goes away soon. The only thing it doesn't mention is cortizone cream as a topical treatment. The article mentions that it is triggered in some people by "infections, emotional upset or medications such as penicillin". I don't think I've had an infection in decades, nor medications. Emotional upset it is, lol! Bottom line, doctors don't know what it is. Story of my life.