The Mediator


Spoiler alert: If I am at the point where I think I need a meditation to calm me down, it is too late for a meditation to calm me down. I don’t know why people keep telling me to meditate. I can’t do it when it would actually be helpful. If I am wound up already it is impossible to follow. Once they get to the part of telling you to relax and focus on your breathing, I am as far away from focused as can be.


I didn’t realize I was waking up enraged every morning. I mean screaming mad. I want to yell but I clamp down on it and it comes out as a loud “grrr!” I mean, I’m practically drooling. Scares my cat under the couch. This lasts for about half an hour unless, god forbid, I spill a few drops of coffee on the floor and it starts all over again. The simplest things send me flying off the handle. Or something more egregious like the wrong song coming on my playlist or the cat knocking over the trash bucket. “Arrgh!” I’m so loud in the morning. I wonder what the neighbors think.


I spent 20 minutes waiting for a late call from my doctor. That was 18 minutes more than I spent talking to him. I knew it would be quick so I tried to prepare what to say. I wanted to make a medication change but he doesn’t like doing that over the phone and he spent most of the call trying to end the call. “Talk to you in 2 months.”


I usually do pretty well in the mornings. I wake up, drink 2 coffees, cook lentils and take my meds. Normally I get a good 3 or 4 hours before my symptoms kick in. I try to get some reading and writing going before it becomes impossible and I have to wait until the middle of the night before I calm down again.

I’m lucky today. I didn’t get that initial rush of anxiety, which is good because I really need to go to the store and stock up on food. I’m almost finished with my emergency supplies. I generally have to get myself out the door before I get a chance to overthink what is coming up. I’m usually okay if I get going before any paranoia starts. I feel so good I think this might be one of those days where I make it through without a problem. But that could change like the weather.

I’m still pissed at my doctor. I told him I was having a hard time, I’m sure he could hear in my voice I was having a hard time. I told him I had been taking an extra dose of my anti-psychotic to get through the past few days. He asked me if I thought it was helping and when I said yes, he changed the subject and a short time later the phone call was finished. My whole point was to get him to increase the dosage on my med but he didn’t get it.


I made it to the store yesterday. I felt good from the moment I woke up. I made a schedule and I stuck to it. I got everything on my list and even a few more things. I felt so good at the store I decided to make it Rib-Eye day. I usually make a one pot meal but it’s been about a month since I had steak. I cooked it immediately after I got home and put everything away. It was a little early for dinner but it was good.

Today is a different story. I was woken up by a panic attack again. My heart is still clenched tight. I don’t know what makes the difference between days. When I went to bed I felt great. I felt great all day yesterday. No symptoms. Maybe a little anxiety but that could have been natural from going out and being around so many people. So why did I wake up frazzled? I took the same meds at the same time, bed same time, woke up same time. Totally different reaction.

I planned on returning some papers to my landlord during my couple hours of good time this morning but I didn’t get my good time this morning. I’ve been a little nervous about it because I haven’t been in the office since I started paying my rent online in January. It is simple paperwork but I can’t bring myself to fill it out. It’s been a week and I have to return it by Sept. 1st. The days are going by faster. It’s so stupid. All I have to do is check the box saying I want to renew my lease and say I’m not a full time student and list all the people who live here. (Just me) I pulled the papers out and started freaking. I couldn’t even pick up a pen. I put them back for another day. Yesterday my plan was to do it by 11am but now it is 12 and I am only able to sit here and type.


I made it to my daughter’s yesterday. Her mom and her aunt were there again. This time it was planned. I like hanging out with them. We are all pretty funny people so there were lots of laughs. We just hang on the small porch out of the sun all day and bust balls.

My daughter is at the age where she wants to rebel but she really can’t. We all like the same music, she wants to get her septum pierced and we say go ahead, do you need a ride? Her mom already does everything that could get a kid into trouble. There isn’t much she could do that I haven’t done. She’s really into getting pierced. Everything but her ears. Her mom says she has to wait until she’s 18 to do more than her nose. She’s interested in gauging so hopefully she doesn’t put any holes in her head she will regret later in life. At this point her best chance at being a rebel is going totally straight edge.

She is into baking and the two of us spent some time in the kitchen. She made chocolate chip cookie, cheesecake freezer bars. Yummo! Then I don’t know what happened. Something flipped the switch and shut my brain off. I was no longer in on the jokes and couldn’t keep up my end of the conversation. I went quiet. Luckily it was around the time of day I usually head home but it sucked because I had so much fun I was planning on staying late.

I pass 2 state sponsored package stores on my ride home from my daughter’s house. Also in my state they are allowed to sell soft drinks (beer and wine) at any convenience or grocery store. Leaving my daughter’s house where I feel like part of the family and then being alone is a trigger for me to drink. That, plus the drop in my mood. I wasn’t close to drinking but I thought about it with every store I passed. Alcohol is so ubiquitous.

Speaking of drinking, I follow a sobriety blog I found accidentally. They post stories, poems and thoughts of people who quit or are trying to quit drinking. Yesterday the title was “2 days sober.” I just couldn’t relate. Two days for me is when I have a really bad hangover and can’t even think about drinking. I’m not sober until the 3rd day. I’ve never been a daily drinker. It’s not until about 7 to 9 days sober that I start thinking hard about buying some more alcohol. I can go that long without thinking of drinking. I’m still dependent which I never thought could happen with my style of drinking.

If you’ve ever been to an AA meeting you have heard them say you have to pray twice a day for god to relieve your obsession with alcohol. Then everyone who speaks there knows exactly how many days since their last drink. That seems a little obsessive to me. It hasn’t been too long for me but I don’t know the exact number of days. I could count it if I wanted. I remember the date I was last drunk. It’s easy because it was the month of my birthday. I don’t know how the 8th stuck in my head because I’m usually bad with numbers. I can hardly think how many months it’s been. When I try I always think it’s one month more than it’s been and then I have to look at the calendar.

I hope I can keep my streak alive. I’ve gone longer without drinking but I’ve never tried to quit for life like I’m trying now. I know I could break and get drunk any day. I’ve come close a couple times. If I do I can imagine how it would go. I would meet a woman who likes to drink and I would lie and say I’m not much of a drinker and have just a couple with her. Then I would be off to the races because I can never stop at “just a couple drinks.”

3 thoughts on “The Mediator

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