The whole 100-miles-per-week bicycling plan seems to be on hold. Most aspects of life beyond bicycles are also on hold. The real challenge is to accept this fact and be at peace with the reality that I am not good at getting shit done. For a time I can, and then that comes apart. The challenge is to accept this and never give up. Or to rebuild again after the times when I do give up...
Goddamnit. I'll try to write about my feelings in a way that makes sense. I feel like I started with a weird delicate brain, and then I kicked it around with many years of alcohol, and sometimes I quit, and when I quit I'm left with a weird brain that I am forced to deal with. The brain has some cool tricks, but not the kind that are doing me many favors. In spite of feeling this way, I still consider myself lucky, which causes me to feel like my difficulties are not valid. I should bottle it up and move on in a stoic manner, like the man I never signed up to be. Meanwhile there is part of me that is full of aspirations and good ideas that I feel absolutely powerless to bring to fruition. I need help I need help I need help.
Living in a van, and traveling from place to place, and drinking every day is a distraction. When I try to stop doing those things, I am left with an uncomfortable vacuum. Life is meaningless and long, and stupid drone humans and systems of idiots keep forcing me to perform tasks that I hate. I reason with myself that I ought to choose between accepting the status quo personally, or else try to drop out of society more completely.
I am better than I have been at times, but my head feels kinda fucked up right now. Not that anybody can tell the difference, and not that I've tried on other people's heads.
I still have unexplored options to improve my life [aka hope]. I can improve my diet and explore natural herbs and remedies. I can meditate more. The fact is that improvement is a fierce struggle. Distractions like travel and anything exercise related can be good to a point, but the benefits come apart when I can't figure out who I am or what I want, and I use bandages to cover it up.
Being sober doesn't help a fucking thing, but it does feel novel at first, and is a good choice from a long-term cognitive and medical standpoint. The novelty wore off, and I'm still no superman. I know these feelings will pass, but in the mean time I wish they'd hurry the fuck up about it.