Hey. It’s time we had a little talk.
Before you start to worry and think you’ve fucked up, no, you’re not in trouble. Not all talks are to scold you for doing something wrong.
That being said, I would like to take a moment to express some concern. Over the past few days, you’ve had a sort of relapse. You got drunk a few times and forgot to take your meds for a few days. Normally this wouldn’t be too much of a red flag but it’s definitely falling in line with some the patterns presented in previous behavioral relapses. First, you feel good after taking your medications as directed for at least a month. Then, you get comfortable with how you feel on said medications and you proceed to drink excessively while on them. Finally, as a result of the repeated drinking episodes, you forget to take a few doses of your medications. It’s just what happens. I’m not scolding you, I’m just shedding some light on this.
I get this is “just what happens” when you get back on medications, but it doesn’t always have to be that way. Some patterns can be broken, and I think this is one of them.
First thing’s first: don’t slack on the meds just because you “feel normal.” The medications are in place to maintain your mood. If you slip up for a few days, it could throw everything out of whack. Secondly, having the occasional drink every once in a while is fine. Having a bottle to yourself is excessive. For now, lay off the substances until you find yourself feeling better over a longer period of time. Lastly, don’t give up on your medication regimen if you’ve slipped up for a few days. Getting back on schedule is tough but rewarding once you do. And you can do it.
You’re doing good. Just get back on track and you’ll be doing great.
[This is part 5 in a series about shitty things I’ve done to people. You can read the original post here. This post accompanies the one before it, so if you haven’t read that, you might be lost. In the interest of protecting the anonymity of all parties involved, all names have been changed.]
When I was living abroad, my Discman and my headphones were my best friends. Too broke to afford an iPod at the time, I burned mix CD after mix CD and carried at least five of them in my messenger bag at a time, not only to have variation, but to be able to have a song that reflected my mood. Happy, sad, contemplative, I believed then and still believe to this day that there is a song for every single identifiable emotion. And when May told me that I “didn’t know what love [was],” the only songs I could listen to were of heartbreak and longing.
My obligations became less and less important in the days following that conversation. I ignored calls from family members and skipped a lot of my classes, opting to grab a taxi to the city center, just to walk around and listen to music. I had recently discovered Broken Social Scene’s album “Feel Good Lost,” having purchased it on a whim at the Virgin Megastore downtown. After the first listen, I carried it wherever I went. I roamed the city trying to convince myself that I wasn’t hurting, but my music selection proved otherwise.
Continue reading “[5.] Insult to Injury”
I realized after writing my last post that I needed a break from the emotional purge series. Constant focus on my negative traits brought my mood down greatly. This exercise, identifying my “sins,” was meant to make me feel better. The blog became a confessional. But after the last entry, I only felt worse.
This next installment, the part 2 of my last post, is especially difficult for me to write because this is mostly about how badly May hurt me, and how I reacted in response. It was the first time that someone had ever told me “I don’t love you,” and even now, it’s still difficult to think about. It hurt to the core at the time, but the pain has since dulled. I still remember what it felt like, though. Like having a tooth pulled and feeling the cavity where the tooth once stood once it’s healed.
I don’t feel very renewed or restored after the last few days. These things, the shitty acts I’ve committed against people, I need to talk about them in order to get them out of my system in hopes that I won’t be haunted by them again, or realistically, not haunted by them as much or as frequently.
The project started after I stopped daily consumption of drugs and alcohol and started taking my medications as prescribed. After three weeks of not taking anything recreational, I ultimately feel better. But when I write about some of this stuff, I feel nervous and ill at ease with myself and all I want to do is smoke a joint and make this feeling go away. I need to learn how to not feel that way.
Let’s hope I learn soon.
Words aren’t flowing as easily as they used to.
See, when I was getting high or drinking, I could churn out page after page of great thought or nonsense, depending on my mood. Nothing was premeditated; every thought that I put to paper or typed out was of the moment. It felt spontaneous and exciting. My creativity was free to manifest itself as it saw fit.
Continue reading “Writer’s Block”
5. “Ne Me Quitte Pas” by Nina Simone (Jacques Brel cover)
Since quitting drinking, Ambien is the only thing that can lull you to sleep. Quick, effective, and less of a hangover in the morning. You decide that both your brain and body feel better and you go with it. While you’ve been making a conscious effort to walk along a straight and narrow path, you can justify replacing drugs and alcohol with pharmaceuticals.
The Ambien does, you notice, effect your dreams, and each dream is intense, vivid, and bizarre. Last night’s dream was no exception.
In the dream, you lit a post-coital smoke while next to The Ex in the bed you shared together. Naked, awash in afterglow, you lied on your back, taking long drags of a Parliament Light 100, the signature brand of the ex before The Ex, He Who Shall Not Be Named. It was a vivid dream. You could see the smoke swirling above you, forming familiar shapes. For a moment, they were like cloud forms. You took another drag and exhaled deeply towards the sky again. The Ex was lying next to you on his stomach, head turned to the side, watching you smoke. His face was neutral, not disgusted, as if he was looking past the cigarette and at you, deep into you. You’re not cuddling, but your bodies are pressed against one another’s. The cold, sweaty clamminess of his skin feels too real.
Continue reading “Under Covers, A Playlist.”
Some days, I just want to spin a globe, pick a random place on its face, and make a plan.
I feel suffocated by everything here. I would say everyone as well, but that wouldn’t be accurate. To be exact, it’s more like 90%; my friends and siblings have provided me with just enough air to survive. For the past few days, or even weeks, I’ve fantasized about starting over somewhere new, even going as far as adopting a new name and appearance to fully abandon my former life and self. For the record, my life isn’t terrible and I am not a monster. That being said, depression is the lens with which I am looking through things these days, and unfortunately, it all looks like shit.
Continue reading “Elsewhere”
When I said I wanted to write every day, I meant it!
Waking up this morning was a struggle. My insomnia got the better of me last night, and by the time I was able to achieve some meaningful sleep, it was time to get out of bed and start the day. I felt awful, both physically and mentally. My brother’s cat attempted to coerce me out of bed by pawing at my face, but to not avail.
There does come a point in the day when productivity is the only acceptable option. I managed to get out of bed, remembering that I promised my roommate that I would go to Target to exchange the lamp that she had purchased for a functional one. I forced myself to take a shower, put on my adult costume, and went out. I try to keep my word whenever possible, and I had to make good on my promise.
I saw Captain Coping Skills (formerly The Polyamorous Neurotic) for dinner this evening. He took me out as a show of gratitude for all that I’ve done for him. We talked about future intentions quite a bit. We both want to get out of retail. We both want more from our lives. We became emotional when talking about his move across the country.
I’m numb this evening. I’ve been working on a few things here and there, but I’m not feeling very much of anything and I prefer it at the moment.
Tomorrow is a new day and that will bring a new post. Until then, sleep well and have a Smiths song before bed.