You’re in the Army Now…

Robot Brain

“The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me ’til I’m sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There’s someone in my head but it’s not me”

“Brain Damage” Pink Floyd

I keep laughing about the old the old Army commercial, “We do more before 9am than most people do all day.”

I woke up at 9am this morning and texted my daughter around the normal time. Then I texted my mom asked her how she was doing, she asked how I was doing. I told her I can’t wake up. Why? I just slept for 24 hours. She was concerned, I don’t like to worry her, I told her I haven’t slept since June. I told her the positive things I have been doing for myself. She said, I know, I’m so proud of you! You inspired me to get outside and get my steps in, etc… Again, I didn’t want her to worry, she has been worried about me my whole life. I said, I have slowed down.

I didn’t really sleep 24 hours straight. I woke up intermittently for a couple hours at a time. I got up sometime to feed and water and scoop my cats shit. (Sanity check: Can I take care of a cat, Yes.) Once around midnight to type a blog post and couldn’t believe I had forgotten about my friend, “Trash”. He was integral to the story, he was the most important and interesting character. I almost hit Publish and thought, wait a minute, I think I already wrote this story. I checked and yes indeed I wrote it over a year ago. I deleted last night’s story completely. What an idiot! The whole point last night was to add “Trash” to the story. I suppose I can rewrite the post and add him to it. Not a problem but I keep remembering more stories I feel compelled to write immediately. Also, I always want to write my journal before noon but there is so much left in the day that could happen. If I could forget about “Trash”, Who else have I forgotten?

As I was telling my mom I had calmed down, I laughed to myself about trying to tell N—, I had slowed down and she said, No you haven’t, you are manic, look at you, you are talking with your whole body and splashing coffee all over the place! That was right after she brought Ollie and I to the vet at 8am. She doesn’t do everything for me and I know I am no longer her responsibility. She could have made it impossible for me to see my daughter after we divorced but instead she allowed me to visit each week at her house. Not the point. She loves animals, and she told me while we were at the vet she did it because she knows Ollie is good for me.

After she dropped me off, my daughter was already planning on taking me out which was fortuitous because I had to unexpectedly flea bomb my apartment and Ollie and I couldn’t be there for a few hours. The whole time I was with her I kept thinking I had to keep my mouth shut but if I had, we never would have had such a good day and when my daughter got home her mom sent me a picture of her looking super happy and added, “she is telling me about her time with you today.” I told her I had cried a lot and she said, See? We are good for you, it helps you heal. So I did pretty well, Tuesday, until later that night when I encountered another “Just another Tuesday night” story by telling a woman, “I love your hat, I used to have one like it” and didn’t sleep until 9am Wednesday. It was only supposed to be a five minute walk to the store.

This morning I laughed after I talked to my mom, because I didn’t tell her the story about making an appointment with a new therapist who asked if I preferred morning or afternoon? I said, afternoon, I need to keep my morning routine which is, lentils, apple, orange but that takes me at least 4 hours. I think I am going to like her because a 5 minute conversation to set an appointment turned into more than a half hour; She said that’s okay, I like to tall too.

This morning I did lentils and kept telling myself, apple and orange but found myself at Panera around 2pm, wanting to yell at an old man because he was standing in front of everyone’s food that was ready, waiting for his food which was not ready. I said excuse me and he threw an attitude.

I got back to my table and thought, Old man? I am the same age. How old do I think I am? I got out of there and went to Walmart to get some fish oil capsules but couldn’t read the fine print. First I asked a kid who worked there is he had good vision because he was wearing glasses. He couldn’t figure out what the hell I was asking about. I was looking for the quantity of each, it doesn’t matter. I asked another man who worked there and he looked puzzled and another woman who worked there said, he doesn’t speak English. I asked her and found the bottle I recognized. Put back the one I was holding and she got miffed I was putting it back in the wrong spot. I was putting it back where I found it. I freaked and asked myself, why are there 3 employees and 3 customers with carts in this tiny aisle that is usually empty? I will order everything online.

The reason I left the house was the pharmacy texted I had a script ready but they only send the first 2 letters. LA. I take 2 meds that start with LA. I walked there because something strange happened to my phone and I couldn’t call. I tried to explain, she told me which one, I said I will take that but it is not the one I need, I am confused because I called this summer and they said, I picked it up two weeks prior, I freaked because I did pick things up two week prior but couldn’t find it. I don’t hide things from myself. I do have some left but I never miss a dose because it is my most effective med ever. I didn’t tell her I was lucky they gave me an extra three months sometime in the past. (they screw up all the time) and that was why I still had some. She told me no, you haven’t picked any up since February. I’m picking it up tomorrow.

Old man? Old man? At the pharmacy, all kinds of Betty’s were (“Kindly speak English and drop the vernacular.” Curly: “Vernacular? That’s a derby! Three Stooges) popping out of nowhere in front of me and I start having thoughts, I shouldn’t be allowed out in public. But I got home and started thinking, ever since I got near my forties, girls in their twenties started being attracted to me. I don’t seek them out. I’m not that creepy old guy starting conversations but I will respond. I dated Jen for two years. (That is part of tomorrow’s story) I try to be age appropriate but women my age aren’t attracted to me. Some of them are. The woman who just left is older than me.

Since I saw my daughter Tuesday, I’ve been thinking about how I have three freight trains of thoughts barrelling through my head, how do I know if I bought a ticket to the right train? Why have I been thinking about trains so much?

[4 hour interlude: I can’t get rid of theses bitches. I like the way they walk and they like the way I talk! I guess I’m not trying very hard. I got a text asking if I wanted her to come over. I said, I have an early appt. tomorrow which will impact my life in a negative way if missed. It was true. She said, what about Friday. I have more important things to to Saturday early. I said tonight is better but you can’t stay until the sun comes up.]

The reason I left the house was the pharmacy. I kept thinking, there are not enough hours in the day to do all the things I wanted to do. I had last night’s wasted writing in mind, this journal post, and two more. I knew I couldn’t write them all today, nor did I need to write them today. One I felt I needed to write, but I kept thinking, apple and orange, it’s almost 3 o’clock! I started to panic, I”m not going to get home in time to write two. Yes I am. What else do I have to do?

I got home and wrote on paper, keywords and phrases as reminders wondering why I didn’t use my computer. I don’t know this was faster. I hope it is legible tomorrow. I took out the trash and checked the mail. Good thing I checked the mail, it scared the shit out of me but it wasn’t important when opened. It’s the sender’s address that scared me. It was the board of Mental Health. They decided her actions did not rise to a level of professional misconduct. Some kind of bullshit went on because if you worked for a company and did your boss’s job without consulting your boss and your boss was surprised you did it because it wasn’t warranted. What would happen? Even I she called me twice a day for two months, sent me letters every day, came and knocked on my door, (which she none of those. ) and I did not answer, it’s still not her job. I didn’t want her to lose her job; I only wanted her to feel a little stress because she caused me an inordinate amount of stress.

I couldn’t decide what to type. I really want to type another story but it’s not time sensitive and if I don’t post the journal before midnight then it won’t be today, but that’s not true, If I’m still awake then it’s still today, okay? Good thing I chose wisely. I’m still typing like I have a deadline!

I remembered I have to eat so I’m cooking my “Power Brain Stew”, gotta get those lentils for the GABA, the inhibitory neurotransmitter. (Okay, it’s finished. It boils for an hour and a half so I have to let the radioactive core cool.)

See what I said? It is now Friday. Bear with me, I’ve been typing since 4pm Thursday, (not continuously) I still haven’t gotten to the point! (Slowly approaching, but another thing) I woke up this morning, Yes, it technically is still today! I remember a long conversation with a woman I just met who has the same doctor as me. She said, Yes, he is an asshole, he is so dense, on and on and on… I ended with , I know, every time I open my mouth my doctor throws another pill in it! (Was that funny?) (I don’t know if you have read me before but my friend I wrote about from East Bumfuck, KY, first developed an affinity for me base upon our mutual love of parentheses) Okay, the point! I could not remember where I met this woman or how we had the same doctor until I realized I met her in my dreams over the past 2 days…

To culminate, the point is I wrote, “Letters to the Future” which was about a connection with my daughter but where the panic set in was, I really am receiving messages from the past… Why did write a poem in 1998 when I was was 29 years old that begins, “I am running out of time to do all the things I dreamed”? ” and it made no sense at the time, but now I am typing furiously at 2am? “1998”

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