...And yet, there they are, with the near-perfect hygiene, and here I am...noticeably not. Quite the opposite, my hygiene in general is horrible, and that extends to my mouth. I just...don't take good care of it. I've tried to get into the habit, and at times it has stuck, but I always fall off the wagon again and...lose it.
I was told that it'd be a shame to lose my naturally-beautiful smile, but I just sat there in silence, because that brought forward some dark thoughts. Mainly, well...on the average day, the forces of optimism and pessimism, of idealism and cynicysm do battle in my head. And the cynics have the edge, given my mental health and situation. So the first question to enter my mind is, "What's there to smile about?" Like, I'll smile at random times at random things, but in general, what's there?
Now, obviously, if I think about it for a bit, I'd come up with plenty of things. A long list of things to be glad for, to be thankful for, to have a smile about being there, or even if they're not there, of having once been there. The problem is, I have to think about it for a while to do that. The forces of optimism take time to gather. Whereas the forces of pessimism can launch an immediate strike: "Nothing." And that's the thought which bombarded me.
As evident in this blog, there's good stuff in my life and bad stuff. How much of each I see (and by proxy, how much you get to see me talk about them) depends from day to day, moment to moment. But overall, while there's plenty of good, I just can't will myself to see it in more than I do. I see more bad than good, and I tell myself that while, sure, good exists, that the more I try to justify its existence, the less sincere I am, and the more I am lying to myself. The more I am telling myself something to make myself feel better in spite of evidence to the contrary.
So understandably...it's not something I really like to talk about, but hey, this is a blog, and it's gotta go somewhere. I prefer not to keep things too negative (it makes me look like I am grabbing for sympathy/empathy when I'm not, not to mention that I'm a spoiled rotten little brat though that one's partially true), to keep the emo-self-defeat at bay, but...these things DO happen to me, and ARE happening to me; all of this, with this thought process, happened today.
And it got worse when thinking about what they also said. They said that I had a choice to make. In a sense, they're right. I hold the power of choice, to control my life or let it go. Controlling my life, part of it, would involve getting healthier habits, hygiene included. But it's not that simple. So in the other sense, they're also wrong: it's not an on-off switch that I can suddenly flip.
Like...it's...a struggle. A mental war goes on in my mind. I have to force it each time. Sometimes with success, often with failure. It's probably in part thanks to my bipolar disorder, but...I just find myself unable to muster the willpower. It's not a deliberate decision to fail, even though by proxy it is a decision to do exactly that. I don't feel in control. I never feel in control. I try to be in control. I want to be in control. But I never feel like I hold mastery over my life, not even remotely. And killing bad habits and starting good ones is part of that. I keep trying to maintain brushing my teeth healthily in the dentist-recommended way...and yet I keep on finding myself failing, time and time again.
It's technically a decision each day. (Unless the thought slips my mind entirely, as in I don't for one second think about brushing.) But each time, it feels like I have none. It's just...really, really crushing. It's illogical. What I'm saying shouldn't make sense. (Frankly, if it does, that probably speaks for your own health; nobody should understand what I'm saying without having gone through something similar themselves.) But it's there. It happens.
Like I said...there's a mental war in my head, between what I want and what I fear. Between what I should do and what I do. Serious, serious demons live in there. And the demons controlling my outlook on events and my will to overcome are stronger than the angels protecting them.
I'm just...not in good condition. It should be a simple decision. Heck, it shouldn't even be a decision at all; it should be an automatic task ingrained into my mind as something I can never not do, as it has gotten to be in our culture. But here I am...and it is a momentous task, of epic proportions. I struggle every day with things as simple as this, so imagine how hard the bigger things are for me. I'm...a mess.