A weird day. But like, also a weird month. And a hell of a year, don’t get me started on that, though. Life is just…Jesus, fuck, what even is life?
What time is it? Five o’clock? No wonder. I’m overdue for an existential crisis.
Last time I really dwelled on meaning of life for too long I had to take the Klonopin that I’m no longer prescribed, though, so I better cut it the fuck out. I only have a few of those left, from the psychiatrist who actually gave a shit about me, and I can’t afford to take two in less than a week. Fuck that.
But I’m just off. What did I call it the other day…nagging ennui or something, I think. Meaning I don’t feel right. I didn’t have anything to do today, but I didn’t do anything at all, so like…I don’t know, I just do not feel right.
So I scribble down what to do on one of the papers scattered across my desk, and here is that actual list:
Pick up laptop and phone
Bring them to the bed
Get under the weighted blanket
Open a document
Yeah. I know. And that’s only one of many that I’ve made today. All with the same breakdown of basic steps into more manageable pieces, all with the same obvious bullets that somehow still overwhelm me, all seemingly unnecessary to people who don’t have the same issues I have.
And that (the ADHD) is only one of the many issues that I face every day.
I’m not listing off my list of mental illnesses. For a variety of reasons, the main one being that I’ve done that too many times to too many people and it’s just not fun anymore, but also because what difference does it make? (What difference does anything make?) (Stop it, brain, you’re not built to handle the crushing psychological weight of existence, go think about rainbows and sparkles or some shit) (What was I talking about?)
I’m definitely meant to be in an episode right now. I definitely would be in an episode right now if not for my cocktail of medications. I’m still in a something, but I’m not sure what it should be called. It’s like…walking through a ghost (I assume). You feel something there, it registers as uncomfortable and odd, but you can’t see it or even understand it. That, in turn, is almost equally upsetting because you’re dealing with something that isn’t “real” and you feel crazy and, if we end the comparison there, that’s what I was already fucking feeling, sooooo what the hell? My sleep schedule is erratic, I’m irritable, more anxious than I’ve been since the mental hospital, more moody, I can’t focus, and I physically feel that my brain and medications are fighting a war that I think my body might also be involved in, so yeah, it’s all thrilling stuff.
Intellectually, I know this is proooobably as bad as it’s gonna get. And I do have faith in the lithium (and all the other drugs, but again, not listing it all, no good’ll come from that). But it’s like being cranked up the incline on a roller coaster and expecting a big drop but the drop still hasn’t come. When is the drop coming? I can’t take the anticipation anymore.
I’m writing this whole thing about learned helplessness because it so perfectly describes what’s happened to me. I learned by example, again and again (and with increasing strength), that when I start to feel this way all hell is about to break loose. It’s been proven to me.
But I got up.
I grabbed my laptop and my phone.
I got under my weighted blanket.
I opened the laptop, pulled up a document, and I’m writing, like, I’m watching the words form on the screen in front of me as my fingers clickety-clack on the keyboard, and that counts as something, so like…
I don’t know where I was going with that but you know what? It’s six o’clock. I’m long overdue for a short burst of frantic activity. Better make a list: