The general line of thinking is this: (1) I’m too focused on what’s happening around me and have lost all contact with myself; (2) My violent assault on my body and mind has been going on for too long now (the first cigarette of the day when I don’t even feel like it, “to wake myself up”; the first meal of the day when I’m not even hungry, out of habit; and so on. I need to “eat when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m tired”); (3) Everything I have to do can be put off indefinitely; what I can’t put off any longer is taking care of myself.

That’s the general idea, and I’d like to be able to develop it further. It’s very Zen, very antianxiety. But it won’t be easy, because the Devil sometimes works in league with a person I love. I hope I’ll be strong enough.

December 7

My perception of my body is an age-old problem. It began with my enforced immobility between the ages of three and eight or nine, during which time I learned to separate myself from my body and live in my head. Other incidents later on complicated things further, and every so often I find myself “living in my head” for extended periods of time. When I do, it’s as if the body exists only when it hurts, and even then I know I have plenty of tricks to avoid feeling pain. For example, when I spend a long time reading the way I did last night, I don’t notice the aches and cramps of prolonged bad posture until the moment I put the book down. Then I feel guilty—because of how late it’s gotten, because I know I’ll be tired and sore when I wake up, because my sight’s getting worse by the day and now my eyes are weepy with exhaustion, and above all because I can tell I’ve fallen into that particular kind of trance that comes from lacking the willpower to change. Is it really too late to turn things around? I don’t think I have much in the way of inner resources at the moment. I could do with some of that famous “motivation,” but sadly I can’t find any inside myself, and there’s no point expecting it to come from anywhere else.

December 8

Today I read a newspaper article about the “disease of the nineties”: chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). I may not have all the symptoms it mentioned, but I certainly have some. Apparently the syndrome has to do with some kind of virus. I don’t know about that, but I’m in no doubt whatsoever about my chronic fatigue, and there seem to be similarities between it and the CFS described in the article, especially psychologically, when it comes to the features that distinguish it from ordinary depression (for example, wanting to do things you can’t do because of the fatigue that hits you as soon as you start your day, or even as soon as you wake up). Since it was discovered only recently, I have no way of fine-tuning my diagnosis; I’ll have to keep treating myself as if I had depression. Yesterday I started taking antidepressants. I haven’t noticed anything so far, and nor was I expecting to, since I know they take a few days to have any visible effect. I just want to put an end to this feeling of being crushed, once and for all. Maybe the medication will help, but at the moment it’s hard to see a clear future. I can’t even catch a glimpse of an acceptable present.