Something I’m reflecting on about the Abilify: it made it almost impossible to exercise. I was so tired and weak I shook.  I haven’t been for a run since I started on it. I literally can’t. I don’t have the energy.

I have the vague desire to do so. But not the ability.

That strikes me as a problem.

I have been noticing that Krav has been getting more and more nightmarish with every week but having a week of vacation from class is showing me… no really exercise is just impossible on this drug. I’ve been off it for almost three days and I’m barely starting to feel more desire to move around.

But I haven’t exercised beyond moving slowly around. I’m still dizzy and exhausted. I’m not sleeping well.

But I am feeling loved. It has been a high oxytocin day. Thank you sweet child. Those hugs are a big deal. Because you give them spontaneously on your own time. You just wanted to touch me. Because you love me.

I’m sad because an awful lot of white people are ridiculously racist. And I can’t fix that. Not the whole problem. It is so big. I am not a hero and sometimes that breaks my fucking heart. I can’t save anyone and I hate myself for it.

I hate seeing so clearly how powerless and fucking useless I am. Because I am.

I can’t protect people. Not really. Not anyone. Life is what it is and there are bad things in the world. I can’t protect anyone. Not myself. Not my kids. Not someone else’s kids.

It is hard sometimes coming to grips with the fact that the adults who told me I was so powerful when I was a child were lying. They were telling stories that served their purposes. In no way does it serve me to think I should be able to “do anything I actually decide to do.”

I can’t save anyone. But it isn’t because of whether I have decided to do so or not. I can’t. I can’t be there all the time. I have such fucking limited power. Even with my kids. Even with how much time I spend with them.

Bad shit is going to happen. It won’t be my fault. It won’t be because I failed. It will be because bad shit happens.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the weight of the chaos of the universe.

Because if we all collectively acted, we could change things. But we have to decide to. And that task…

Sigh.

It is much bigger than me.

I’m just an asshole who is trying to not be a complete piece of shit. What I do will never be enough to make me “good”. It’s not an option.

I am so small and so petty. My troubles are so insignificant. At least it is astonishingly clear to me.

But seeing how small and petty one is provides one with the opportunity to choose how petty to be going forward.

There’s some shit I need to work on. Which sucks. Because I’m tired of working.

Whine. Bitch. Moan. Do the work. Ok.

I’m really not the person I want to be. I’m not generous. I’m stingy and selfish. I’m grasping and greedy. I don’t want to be. I don’t need to be.

I could be a better person. If I tweaked a whole bunch of things.

Shit.

Need to stop typing. Arms on fire.