I was down with high fever and acid reflux couple of days back. There was none around as I struggled to find my way at home, cook some porridge, make myself tea... My dear pooch as always my sole & soul companion.🥲Worse did not even feel like calling few of my friends (or maybe just calling them good acquaintances would explain why I couldn't be enthused to call them for help. And then everybody is so legitimately busy with work & family routines) Fortunately for the moment figuring out what could be possibly wrong I took some medicines and I'm stable now. Physically that is. Mentally/emotionally even more devastated. That as I age my body will start giving away, I will need help whom I will need to employ - to do all the chores I otherwise do myself - cleaning, cooking, gardening... As a single destitute retiree this helps me save money and also gives me something to do. My medication other than for my depression & anxiety has been minimal so far. Notwithstanding all my grief, depression, abject failure, loneliness and anxiety, ironically I'm always conscious of my tragic isolation, financial limitations and so as such careful with what I do to myself - not to abuse myself beyond what I already am by brutal fate and circumstances & seek pointless diversions, engagements in the so called pursuits of letting go, forgetting, moving on and other piously proferred nonsense. Yet this possibility of matters morphing into further tangle is even more unnerving. Things have been at a point where there's no high I crave for - company, food or drinks...even coffee. In fact zilch interest in eating . Or for that matter any urge to indulge in any way . I barely have any relationships left even in very rudimentary terms- none interested in my tragedies & guess I did things so reproachful sometime in my horrible past, that today I endure or endear to none. Rarely even a text or a call I get unless I attempt to reach few out myself. Forget about flowers, surprise visits. Yeah I know... all this makes one sound so needy and juvenile. many remark it's just my self pity. Some worthies pose me as the very pathetic antithesis of Nietzschean Ubermensch. 😔 Yes many such, my kins and insensitive, self righteous connections from past I no further long for.

Desire like travelling, movies, visiting art galleries my passions once, nothing barely motivates . For one thing Bangalore in India is such an traffic nightmare that at one level I should feel lucky to be still alive staying put home where chaos outside and just few minutes of travel can be so stressful aggravating even a Buddha! Yet Somehow still I prepped myself on few days of driving tour out of a wretched Bangalore to rather unknown places. Not that it was in any way very therapeutic or meaningful. There's none I feel like sharing my experiences or photos with. my knowledge and insights however singular itself enthuse none. Movies I still try watching but nothing barely gets my mojo going. So many left half way or quit after mere few minutes of it. Yes music, club house jazz and Indian Western fusion I find meaning that somewhere resonates with my melancholy & grief. Then reading... Sociology, cultural history... Howeverv in short, all giving away... Even coffee. All will end soon. A purgatorial life with no hopes of redemption anywhere. 😢

I use Mighty more as my journaling. Thats my only therapy left to reach out and talk to some in the world with my soliloquies. Thanks for reading 🙏
#destitute #Grief #CheckInWithMe #acuteloneliness #Loneliness #ChronicDepression #failure