Writer’s Block???

“Loaded like a freight train
Flyin’ like an aeroplane
Feelin’ like a space brain
One more time tonight (look out)…”

“Nighttrain” Guns ‘N’ Roses

I’ve been sleeping about 2 hours a night for a couple months. When left to my own devices I wake up at 10 minutes til 4. It happened again this morning. My eyes popped open, (somehow my cat knows and jumps onto the bed next to my head, like he’s been waiting; it’s not feeding time) I rolled over, hit the button on my phone, (saying please, let it be 6am) 3:50am exactly. Time to wake up! I don’t set my alarm. I don’t have any place to be. I’m not sleep deprived. What the fuck am I doing?

I’m not dying to have that first cup of coffee. In fact, that’s another story in itself. I used to chug 2 full pots of coffee by myself, every day. Without question. Well, there was a question. I would think about cutting down. Once I did quit but I quickly went back up to one full pot. I don’t know exactly when but I started filling the pot to the number 8 line. No, that is not 8 cups. I think it is 6 ounces measure. This spring I consciously tried to cut it down to the number 4 but if I did, I invariably made 4 more. 2 regular size ceramic coffee mugs. Okay, this is getting picayune. Now, the last thing I’m thinking about is quitting but I did it again this morning. I filled it up to 4, brewed it, took 2 sips and dumped all that shit down the drain! Again! When I wake up I really feel like I want that coffee but now I know I’m wasting my time. Cook the fuck out of those lentils, though.

But why 3:50? This morning I thought it might be the tinnitus. But it has been at low volume lately. Today it is blasting but I figured that out in a New York minute last night. Cheese! It is the only thing new I had and I had more than usual because I was surprised to find it. My head was ringing! I did a quick search and sure enough. Something to do with the fats in dairy. At least I figured it out the first night. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with the bananas. Why was my mom pushing those on me? Why the hell is my tinnitus back strong? It took me about 3 weeks to figure out what was new. But I already had it figured out anything that raises my serotonin a lot increases the ringing in my ears. I was going to wait 2 more days. But I threw those shits in the trash. That was obvious the first and only time I tried glycine. That was horrible! That is how it feels now with the cheese.

When the tinnitus started and also the incessant music in the left side of my brain. (TD) That would drive me crazy. That would force me to wake up. They were both so insistent. The music was the worst. The longer I let the same song stick in my head. The faster and louder it got. Until I figured out the trick of listening to mellow grooves or even easy listening. Anything slow with no lyrics. Today, I feel safe listening to Appetite for Destruction but I am sticking close to YouTube. It used to be the last song I heard. It still is but I can ignore it sometimes. But the synchronized movements of my lips and breath seem to be going away. (I think the gingko is helping, I just hope I”m not overdosing on it.) Today I am going to try cutting the magnesium in half. Strangely it is supposed to reduce tinnitus but the tinnitus started when I began large amounts of magnesium for the akathisia. (increases serotonin) But I’m not sure I need it for the akathisia any longer. I hope not.

Oh yeah? What am I doing waking up before 4 though? It’s not like I live in the city that never sleeps. All this town does is sleep, and if it doesn’t the cops will pull it over. I like writing but I have all day to write. I’ve been writing since I woke up and nothing has happened yet.

Fuck, my feet are tapping now. It sucks not knowing if I am in control of my movements. Maybe it is the music. I haven’t listened to a full album of rock for a long time. Switching back to the easy stuff. I usually take all this crap when I first wake up. I’m just trying to see what’s what.

Writing. I think I wrote a quick blog post last night. I need a good subject for a long one. I’m shit posting twice a day. I have plenty of subjects. I just don’t feel like putting them together. Not with my head ringing. It sucks, it goes along with my heartbeat. Whoosh, whoosh.

Okay, finally, back to the subject at hand. Rumination. I read two ways to help are to distract yourself. I do that by listening to music while I write. It wasn’t working though. I was still running off at the mouth. Another technique is to write a plan of action. That sounded great; two birds with one stone. But my plan of action is I most likely won’t need to take any action. I took out a pen and paper and slowed myself down and wrote it out. It was only one long paragraph but when I was finished, I stopped running it over and over in my head, getting worked up and pissed off. That was at least a week ago.

I gave myself a non-deadline of the middle of November but also wrote out, “Plan of action may still be no action.” I think that will help because last month I had a date written out and panicked and almost blew up my spot a couple nights up at 3am writing emails, filling out forms and making phone calls. I get so lucky sometimes. I wrote it all out a few months ago but realized it was getting messy and wordy. Last night I was feeling calm and did a thorough edit. I hope nobody sees it.

6am. Maybe time to walk down to Linda’s Breakfast. I don’t have much money left for the month but what can it hurt to spend $15 once? Besides, after I was called “old man” this weekend, I may have to go where old men hang out. I’m already up at old man hours. Maybe I could be a real dick and pay for one bottomless cup of coffee and leave a 50 cent tip. Call all the waitresses, “Honey.”

It’s not really an old man place. It is just the best breakfast in the area. I have only been there a handful of times. I’m not much of a go out to breakfast type unless they are serving Bloody Mary’s. They usually have a line and make so much money they close at noon. They may have started lunch after losing money to Covid. I’m not sure, I don’t get around much. It’s got to be better than fucking Panera, They have a full menu and it’s only another half mile away. Why would I want to do that? It is a bit far and it is only 50 degrees and still dark. By the time I get off this computer they will be closed. I still have to eat an apple and orange.

Maybe I will just meditate until I reach Nirvana… Or my brain falls out.

Synchronized Living

“Let’s be heroes, let’s be martyrs, let’s be radical thinkers
Who never have to test drive the least of their dreams”

“Love Ire and Song” Frank Turner

Y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit… I don’t believe any of it. I’m not into anything mystical. I wanted to be way back when I was in single digit years. I remember it was 2nd grade, I never slept. I had an AM radio but all I listened to was static between stations. I thought it was aliens communicating with me. I don’t believe that anymore.

I do believe in synchronicity; not minor coincidences that happen all the time; major shit that is just undeniable for me when I am on the right path (in the flow). I only believe it because it is the strangest thing I have ever experienced. I don’t go around looking for it. I’ve only been overwhelmed by it a few times in my life. This whole summer has been one of those times. After I set the intention to make positive changes in my life. The coincidence was a negative choice but it led to a positive. I want to write all of it at once but the biggest one culminated last night.

I didn’t realize at the time I started planning my relapse a few months ago. I was conscious of it, I was taking deliberate actions, I wrote about it in several posts. Sometimes I was saved by dumb luck and others I caught myself by thinking it through and knowing there was no way this could end well. I knew what I was doing/ I didn’t know what I was doing. It was cognitive dissonance.

Back the point. It started while I was still trying to find people, places and things that didn’t revolve around drinking. I did a search and couldn’t find anything but I did see Frank Turner was playing at the Casino in Hampton and bought tickets on impulse. But what is he doing there? He’s from England and I don’t know anyone who has heard of him. I only like 3 of his songs but I really like them. They would be on my deserted island list. Only because when I first heard them I thought, if I had any talent I would have written these songs. I was wondered if I wanted to go because I they serve booze. But, no, I thought I was still sticking to the plan. I wasn’t having any thoughts about drinking. I told myself I can go to a concert and not drink. (Yeah, right) Still, he got straight, he even has a song called “Recovery”. But I don’t like that song. The songs I like are from when he was still using. I mostly forgot about it. But now I realize I lit a slow burning fuse that led to a huge explosion months later.

Another small coincidence was it wasn’t until after I finished the post about the chick I started texting while she was at an atheist retreat. (still don’t get that) She was the one who turned me on to Frank Turner. That’s no big deal, I was probably subconsciously reminded of her. That’s not the fucked up part.

Last night was the fucked up part. I never thought about attending an online meeting. It wasn’t until I was wondering why I couldn’t commit to the idea of a lifetime of abstinence. I came across the paper I had read a hundred times this summer and it was one of the major coincidences. I had always glossed over it because, I’m not a perfectionist. Come to my apartment and you will see. I don’t need to have everything, “Just right”. But it was the fear of failure part that never clicked. The parts of my life that are important to me are the ones I need to go according to plan. If they don’t, I failed. I put a lot of effort into it and I failed. I didn’t live up to the standards I set and then I start kicking the living shit out of myself.

I got sidetracked. A lot of the coincidences were the quick internet searches I would do when I noticed patterns I wanted to change. I would look up how do I change (whatever) and find out I am already doing the right things. (Still off track) The biggest one was “dealing with perfectionism.” I wasn’t thinking about addiction but the article I found talked about it. It said a high percentage of addicts are perfectionists. That made sense to me; no big revelation. Then it said it is the most dangerous combination because they are the most likely to believe they can solve their problem themselves. That is exactly my problem. I still wasn’t going to try the meeting! I’m thinking, I got this wrapped like a mummy. You know the story.

Oh yeah, the fucked up part. I’ve been thinking about the Frank Turner concert and how it probably was an excuse to get drunk. I figured I would have to tear up the tickets if they ever get here in the mail. It would be a waste of $80 but it could turn into a waste of a lot more if I go. (Again) Yesterday, I was depressing and casting a negative light on everything. I knew I have a lot of positives in my life. I’ve been writing them down and keeping them specific and believable. Sometimes I read through it to remind myself. Yesterday I tried and I had a counter-argument for all of it. I disqualified everything. I knew I was doing it so I tried all day to contest it. I started feeling better as the day went on. I was practicing all my healthy coping skills and trying new ones.

(Still in suspense?) Last night I was writing my blog and looked at the clock and thought, cool, I’ll be finished around 10pm, I’ll head over to the store and pick up some beer. Wait a minute! Back the truck up. How did that become the plan? That’s not what I’ve been doing. It’s not a new habit. It still sounded perfectly reasonable. I can’t do that. I was right, I finished at 9:40, time to walk to the store. Seriously? I did everything right today and now I’m going to reward myself by fucking shit up. Cancel that plan. If there is one of those meetings tonight, I’ll log on. I checked the schedule and the next one started at ten. Cool, I’ll just log in and wait. The first 2 times I logged in early, there was a graphic saying they would start soon. Last night, I clicked “join” 20 minutes early and a video was playing and it was blasting. (Do you know where I’m going with this?) It was Frank Turner, “Recovery”! No fucking way! It makes sense because the songs and other clips they were playing were based on that theme. But this song? By this guy who is not very popular? Still makes sense, but that’s where it turned for me months ago. Buy tickets was a deliberate action and I knew I was going to get fucked up if I went and the show isn’t until October 10th! Am I supposed to go and stay sober? Probably not a good idea.

More fucked up shit. They started the meeting asking you to click on the poll if it was your 1st, 2nd, or 3rd meeting. I was one of 11 people out of 200 and something. He asked if anyone wanted to briefly say why they are here. I certainly didn’t! So why did I start the meeting with my camera on even though I’m paranoid about being facially recognized and why did I just unmute myself and rattle off a quick spiel? That is not me. At the beginning the let the people suggest topics and one was what to do after a relapse. That applied to me, I did it again and talked about my problem being afraid to commit because if I drink, I beat myself up for being failure but if I do what most people say, “everyone makes mistakes, get back on track and learn from it” aren’t I giving myself permission to fuck up? He said it sounded like I had a problem with unconditional self acceptance. I started thinking, I don’t know anything about this program other than the basics. Maybe I should have read some of their website. I did “what to do before your first meeting.” The answer? Read about what they call “Tools”. Okay, the first one was, “Unconditional self acceptance”, Still making sense. But the whole fucking thing is what I have been tossing around for the past month. Dealing with feelings of hopelessness and making myself feel worthless. Basic shit, no revelations but I know exactly where they are going with this… “Perfectionism”. Maybe I stumbled onto something here. Some of the major coincidences this summer were I’ve been getting really fucking lucky. Something else I don’t believe in. But I’ve been dodging bullets I’ve intentionally been trying to shoot at myself.

Are you ready for more? I am. I have been relieved because my mania has settled down during the past week and I haven’t crashed into any deep depression. I slept for a few hours last night and when I woke up I was “Top Fuel” again. I turned on the tap to start the coffee and the power went out. Good! I don’t need any coffee. It’s another perfect day, I should get the fuck out of here. I can ride my bike again. Where? Nowhere…

Sit down. No power, no computer, no television. Cool, I charged my tablet last night. No wifi! I can still text and I did. I even texted, N____, not out of the ordinary but I figured she was still sleeping. She wasn’t, she had an appt. I asked her what she was doing later. Then I realized why I wanted to get out of the house so fast. I wanted to race over there and tell her all this fucked up shit going on all summer. I luckily I thought twice. I can’t do that. I’ll be trying to get it all out in 5 minutes, talking so fast I’m foaming at the mouth. All summer long she is the only one who knows I’m manic. I’ve only seen her in person a few times, I’m no over texting her. She keeps telling me I’m manic.

I’m getting to it. In the beginning of July, I blasted out 3 pages in the early hours and waited for her to wake up. I texted and asked who she sees. Why? She wants to know… Since the akathisia shit started I’ve been taking notes and I went through them and typed them all up and I need a professional who doesn’t know me to give me an opinion. She told me that is something I would have to do on my own. Then she said, This is what you do when you are manic. You take notes, you write everything down. When I would do your laundry I would find scraps of paper with scribbles all over them in your pockets. Read what you typed, I bet it doesn’t make any sense. She was right.

That’s not the fucked up part. The scraps of paper. Those were the poems I’ve been posting lately. I don’t write poetry anymore. It’s all from 20 years ago. I would be somewhere, I put it all together in my head. I have to find a pen and something to write on. I don’t read poetry, why am I writing it? I typed them up, put them in a folder. I read them once in a while, only a few people have seen them. They made sense to me. Now, 20 years later, some of them are cheesy but others hit me hard.

What else? That empath woman. Why was I going to spend cash on an Uber to travel all that way to meet her. She wrote 3 paragraphs of shit I don’t believe in. When I wrote a comment saying sorry it will be too expensive to get there, I didn’t hear back and forgot about it. A couple weeks ago she sent me an email saying she also does a group online. That was when I was still against Zoom. I said I don’t know maybe next month, I’ll be able to make it in person. Why did I say that? If I went last time it would have been just the two of us. What would we talk about? I guess synchronicity. She didn’t mention it but it seems right up her alley. Am I supposed to meet her? I don’t believe in fate.

After she wrote the email I checked her page and noticed only a few people had left comments. One of them was M____, my empath friend. Of course she was there 2 years ago! She used to piss me off so much talking about that shit. And the numbers. She would sit there and watch the clock until it hit 2:22 and say that’s strange, I’ve been seeing that a lot lately. She pumped $22.22 worth of gas into her car and made a big deal out of that. I’m just like , will you please shut up. I know how many times a day numbers repeat on a clock. It’s not that unusual. I kept it to myself because I liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Last month, I thought it was funny, I jumped up and just had to leave the house, I glance at the clock and it was 2:22. I laughed to myself thinking how she would like that and it was the first time I had thought about her for a while. But when I walked back in the door the first thing I saw was the clock on the stove telling me it was 3:33. I still don’t believe in it but something is going on in my brain.

There is a lot more but I can’t remember most of it. I wanted to go on about the last time I had it this strong when I was in my twenties but this is getting pretty long and I think it would add another 2,000 words and I imagine I’ve lost everyone by now.


What the hell is going on around here? That is a rhetorical question. I can explain. I’ve had a Twitter account since 2009. I mostly follow small accounts of people I think are funny but also some well known comedians or comedy writers. In the past few years with so much political upheaval, the funny people first went to political jokes and then stopped trying to be funny and went straight up political. A lot of the smaller accounts stopped posting altogether. My timeline was getting depressing. I started another account in February. I was having a lot of mental health issues and my mindset was negative thoughts. I decided I would only post positive messages and follow people with positive messages and repost positivity. I’m not exactly inspirational but you get the idea. I follow about 300 people and have maybe 100 following me.

Soon after I started the account I got a DM from someone. The only person to do it. I never send messages to people. My account gives no indication of my gender and their account gave no indication of their gender. Their posts were similar to mine. I figured it was a guy because they were asking me kind of personal questions. Maybe they thought I was a woman because of what I wrote. I couldn’t guess who was behind the account. It is a small locked account. They liked a lot of my posts but also a lot of other people’s posts. We had a short back and forth and I found a good point to not reply. Then my akathesia started and I really couldn’t do much on the internet because I could not concentrate or sit down for more than a few minutes. So Twitter fit well with that. My posts are short and concise and I could scroll a little and repost. But I was not very active.

I August when I started feeling better and spending more time online I was awake one night in the twilight zone. I remembered the message and reread the conversation. On impulse I wrote, “What the hell were you expecting of me?” I got a reply soon after. It was a long message, I don’t remember what it said but they seemed upset by my question. I responded, “I love you”. They came back, “That was way back in February , why are you answering now and why did you think I expected something from you?” I told them why I started the account and they told me they started their account for the same reason. Then asked, “Second, why did you tell me you love me.” I said, “To spread some positivity.” They said it made them happy and I was doing a good job. We messaged back and forth sporadically and I figured out it was a woman when she told me she had her heart broken by a man recently. It didn’t matter to me but it was another person to talk to and she is interesting.

Last week she started sending me long ass messages one after the other. I knew she was into spirituality and mysticism, but started to get pretty far out there. I began to wonder but I thought a lot of people believe in some crazy shit but that doesnt mean they are crazy. She started hinting around she was in the process of a business deal that would make her millions but no specifics. At the same time she said she was moving to a smaller apartment and needed a roomate. I wondered where the million dollar idea went but I kept my mouth shut.

Monday she went off about her car got impounded for parking tickets and she couldn’t afford to get it back and other money problems but some people helped her. Okay, She’s not a millionaire, she doesn’t own a mansion and a yacht. Still interesting conversation. Then out of the blue she asked if I wanted to see some lingerie pics she had taken recently or if she was daring maybe some of the nudes? What? Sure, send whatever you are comfortable. She sent me picture after picture, each more revealing and it turned into some straight up rated X. This girl was smoking! I figured I was getting catfished but she wasn’t trying to get anything out of me so I went along and complimented her a bit. She said, “You are one lucky man, I get $100 for each of those, I’m about to make $600 in a few, pays my rent.” I said you just gave me a thousand worth, I guess I am pretty lucky. I didn’t know what to think. I’ve seen plenty of pics of nude women so they don’t do a lot for me. We both went to bed.

Last night, Tuesday, I got home around 10pm and checked to see if there were any more messages. We talked as if she never sent the pics. I’m not sure how we got on the subject I think she mentioned things about anxiety and negative thought patterns and trying to keep track of her moods. As I was reading it at a random time the three dots showed up indicating she was typing at the same time I was typing, I got it out first saying careful about keeping track of every little detail, for months I was taking noted on my pocket calendar and driving myself crazy flipping through trying to figure out what happened when, what was important or not, what the hell all my shorthand stood for, half of it made no sense. She sent her message at the same time, it was long as fuck, talking about she is using Excel spreadsheets to keep track of synchronicities and noticing a pattern and her life is affected by something bigger than this Universe and all kinds of crazy shit.

I thought it again for the hundredth time in my life! What the fuck? She is schizo too! How the hell do they find me. I gave no indication of any mental illness in my postings. My bio says, “I am you from another dimension” and my pinned tweet is, “Get in your spaceship and explore your universe”. The most I said and reposted were jokes about anxiety I thought were funny. One of my posts was, “Kats>Klonopin”, so what? Everyone has anxiety. I’m telling you I attract Schizophrenics. I don’t advertise, they seek me out.

We talked about some of that and she got on the subject of having her heart broken and 3 years of shit and he chose another woman. Whatever, I tried to say something helpful, then she said, “I never even held him in my arms, he was never mine to have. It’s all in my head.” I’m thinking she made this guy up? I asked her a few questions, okay, he was real, she was in love but he chose another woman. We talked for hours and it was getting a little depressing, me thinking about my own failed relationships. I said, “Hey”, “What?”, “Do you have any chocolate at your place?”, “No, I wish”, I guess I won’t tell you about the chocolate I just found in my freezer.” Good, I change the subject and she stopped talking the guy and we went on about the food we were eating, Nothing serious, getting really late like 4am, she asked if she was an ancient goddess which one would she be? I said, Aphrodite. She got excited and said that is me! Those are the tattoos I have covering my body. Her symbols. She gave me 2.5 points for that, we had a joke she had me on a scoring system for each time I made her laugh or got an answer correct.

She said something about dying, I told her she would live forever in my mind. “Wow, where did that come from?”. “4am bullshit.” (true), “I guess we can chalk it up to that”, “No, actually you are indelible”. I said a lot of shit last night. I can be impressive but this girl is way out of my league. I am like Cyrano hiding in the bushes feeding the appealing guy lines.

5am. She told me I had an hour to get 1.5 points. Ha ha. No pressure. Then she started sexting me. I was not expecting that. I went along. Sexting is exciting the first time but after that it gets boring if it’s not going to lead to the real thing quickly. I have no illusions about her hopping on a bus to New Hampshire from NYC and falling in love with my old, ugly ass. I wasn’t really taking it seriously because I have no idea who she is on the internet. But then I found out she was real. She sent a close up picture of her, umm… “using” something she had been holding in one of the original set of pictures she sent the night before. Okay, I’m interested. 6am, she told me I scored 10 points in the hour. We have achieved the Rapture. We both went to bed. I haven’t checked if she messaged me again. I can’t figure out how I find these people but I like it. Synchronicity?

The Truth Shall Set You Free!

My doctor said, “Your medications are making you worse.” He called it, The Paradoxical Effect. He started explaining it to me but I already knew, I just didn’t know it was a thing with a name, I thought it was me getting worse. He didn’t say anything about stopping any medications. I was pissed. I yelled, “You mean my whole life had been one big, horrible side effect?” He only replied, “Do you want therapy?” Something he has been trying to get me to do again for months. I said the same thing I always say, “I don’t know, Jim, I don’t trust anyone right now.” He told me to set an appointment for two weeks. I called the office and made it a month. I needed sometime to think. That was the last time we spoke.

I don’t understand. Was that his way of telling me to stop my meds? Is he not allowed as a psychiatrist to suggest quitting? It doesn’t really matter because I was already unintentionally tapering off the Latuda. I could not tolerate the pain and uncontrollable movement caused by akathisia. I was already skipping doses when I could not force myself to intentionally swallow a pill that I knew would cause me pain from the moment I woke up the next day. I didn’t tell him that only a few days prior I had made a plan to cut down and stop as quickly as I could. I don’t know how fast is too fast; I gave myself a month but I am sure I cannot handle 30 straight days of akathisia symptoms. It is real horror show like!

No medication has ever really worked for me but I would always think, imagine how bad I would be without medication. He told me I am at the end of the line when it comes to anti-psychotics. I recently read several articles saying after decades of being on them with no real improvement, the patient usually does better without them. That also went into my decision to quit.

I had suspicions my medications were having an opposite effect in the past. I really believe it after ceasing Sapphris last December and having several strong symptoms disappear the next day. The symptoms that had me agree to double the Sapphris thinking it was supposed to helping. Maybe I do need more, I thought. I even picked up the higher dose at the pharmacy but before I returned back home I knew there was no way I could handle twice as much of that shit.

I became suspicious of all my medications and decided to next try the trazadone. I know it is not an effective anti-depressant and is usually prescribed for sleep. It wasn’t doing much for my sleep. It also made me feel awful both mentally and physically when I took it but still couldn’t sleep. It was no problem to quit. Now for the first time in forever I fall asleep easily with no aids.

I’m not telling anyone to quit their medications and I feel wrong about bashing the side effects for so long on here. Now my doctor tells me I am one of the lucky ones with the paradoxical effect. I’m not sure how it is going to work out but I have to try. All I know now is I am on the lowest amount of Latuda I have ever taken and the only thing that has changed is the akathisia has gotten worse. It doesn’t seem to be dose dependent.

I don’t suggest trying any of the above.

We don’t have time for this shit!

Coffee Talk

I can’t get off the fucking clock. The night before I was going to see my daughter my eyes popped open and I thought it was time to wake up. I pushed the button to illuminate my watch and it was midnight. I had only slept an hour. I was wide awake but it would be trouble if I got up. I wasn’t worried. I thought I would get back to sleep easily. I didn’t turn on the tv. I forced myself to lie there. Finally I gave up and looked at the time again. 4:45am.

Close enough. I said I would prove to myself this was all my imagination. It’s the coffee making me hyper. I made some and took my first sip at 5. I also started making lentils. Cooking and eating lentils takes about an hour. It is mostly setting the timer on the stove to cook and setting it again to let them cool off. I wanted to time it so I could eat before I took my meds at 6. It all went according to schedule . I sat down and said, See, it’s the fucking coffee! I picked up my cup which was almost full and took a sip. It was cold! It was 6:20am. I should have easily had 2 cups by then. What the fuck was I doing for the past hour and a half? And why was my mind racing when I haven’t had any caffeine in at least 20 hours?

It started working about an hour before she got here. That was good. I still had to chew on my tongue for a couple hours. She is a great driver for the short time she’s been doing it. She got lucky with that car. It’s a 2005 BMW but it looks and drives like new. She really likes to drive. I will probably never see her again after she gets her license. She still hasn’t been on an interstate highway. I don’t think I want to be in the car the first time she does.

Last night I was back to thinking I don’t need all these medications. Until I was still awake at 4am. I gave up and took a trazadone for sleep. I woke up at 8am and started the lentils and took my anti manic at 9. (Still on the clock) Yesterday was not a typical day. Today is more like it. I wake up feeling fine and decompensate later.

I only remember all these exact times because I wrote everything down as I did it. I’ve been using my day planner to keep notes. I know I’m being hyper-vigilant about this but it has been a few weeks since my mind has intensified. I feel confident I will have a better day. I haven’t had a day where I was afraid I couldn’t handle this myself since a week ago Saturday.

I’m only getting granular about this because every day is different and usually by now I would be going 24/7. I figured out when I last had a panic attack. It was 8 years ago when I last told someone about it. I remember because it was when I first moved down here and they gave me a nurse practitioner. I told him I was having 6 hour panic attacks. He said, Panic attacks don’t last that long and dismissed it. What should I call it? Panic 2.0? SuperAnxiety?

This is stupid. I keep hearing a voice telling me I don’t need the medications. That makes no sense at all but I still want to listen. At least I’m not drinking or taking street drugs. That usually gets me off my medications. That would make everything a total mess. I can binge for about 4 days with no food or sleep before I fuck up somewhere.

It’s 10 am and I still feel good. I don’t know if taking the med in the morning is making a difference. This is only the second day. Like the magic 8 ball says,”Too early to tell.”

“You’re not as messed up as you think you are

Your self absorption makes you messier

Just settle down and you would feel a whole lot better

Deep down your just like everybody else”

“Reasons not to be an idiot” Frank Turner

Would have thought?

I have anxiety from thinking of a million different reasons why my anxiety suddenly got worse. The simplest explanation is my anxiety did not suddenly get worse. It’s always been horrible so could I please shut the fuck up about it?

They all tell you it’s the anxiety that makes you drink. I can handle the anxiety. It’s the pain. Oh my god, the fucking pain. I almost forgot. I really wasn’t expecting that today.

The first time I got a good therapist, she was certain I had PTSD from my childhood. I didn’t even tell her half the shit! I haven’t talked about it since. I don’t think she was right. I didn’t know. I thought everything was normal. I thought everyone grew up like that.

Lately I’ve been putting myself on a tight schedule. I don’t have to do everything at the same time every day. But in the morning I line the day up. I set start times for everything. I don’t have a set limit for finishing but starting is exact. I usually pick the beginning of an hour. Not 5 minutes before. Not 2 minutes after. I’m usually pretty good at it and if I miss I’ll usually slide down to the next round number on the clock.

Coffee and breakfast is routine when I wake up. I keep times for that. Today was lunch at noon, exercise at 1 and check the mail at 2:30. That would be after the mailman came and I could get the whole week at once because I’ve been fucking up and not setting a time for mail.

I hit lunch fine and 1 was looking pretty good. I was waiting and N___ texted me and said she would help get me to the vax if I signed up. I told her I’ve been thinking of it but I can’t figure out where to start. She told me and it was very easy. I have an appt. for my first shot on April 20. It should have been easy but by the time I was done I was slipping. It was after 1 and I could just change my time to exercise but it wasn’t looking good. That’s okay, I’ve been pretty rigid with that. Even if I’m not wanting to do it, if can get it started on the hour I can finish. It makes me feel better because I breathe as slowly and deeply as possible and hold my form and match my movement to my breath.

2:30 mail call was a joke. Perhaps I was being a bit optimistic. By that time I had myself restrained in my bedroom, totally losing my shit. That’s usually reserved for 3pm. Leaving my apartment was not a good idea. It is 7 now and I am feeling better. Comparatively. Not go downstairs and check the mail better. Now I know and that will be a first thing tomorrow objective. (Hopefully I’ve already done it today because I am scheduling this for tomorrow; Sunday)

My last therapist was always telling me to “stay in the moment.” What if the moment sucks so bad you will do anything to get out of the moment? Stay in the moment… What is that supposed to mean? She’s too young to be a hippie. Mindfulness bullshit. Even when I do a guided mindful exercise, I’m doing it to concentrate on anything but the moment. I’m doing it right now. Writing helps me focus my thoughts. Even when I’m writing about my horrible day, I’m really thinking about the writing. Back when I was “in the moment,” This would have been impossible.