3:41 p.m.
Sometime today, probably about 12 hours ago - I started to reconsider some things that I do on a daily basis. Began, perhaps - to gain some kind of insight; like, you know, I got the ‘outside looking in” perspective. Scary stuff.
Someone told me before to write standing up… Like peeing, I suppose… I guess it’s supposed to maybe get the juices flowing. It seems, that it works.
Thanks, Joe.
Incredible reminissions of life-living capabilities or rather, incapabilities - are flooding my mind.
Once again, it’s Day 4 of me not having my 40 mg. Celexa; my SSRI (selective sanity repressing inhibitor)…
100,000 thoughts per minute to about 100 million now…
I’m feeling like motivation is hiding somewhere in chemical form, but that itself is just the illusion.
Was I better without them? I suppose that it depends on which ones we are talking about.
At times, shortly after awakening, I think of:
Pills
Weed Cigarettes
Alcohol
Something to make it better. But it’s only made me worse. Discontent; constant discontent.
I AM happy,
But I am troubled, by myself.
PERHAPS, Rehab isn’t the solution, but maybe counseling, or at least some recognition of my new lease on life should do the trick.
I feel:
Lackadaisical
Hopeful, yet unmotivated.
Out of shape
Out of touch
(Out of exile??)
The anxiousness has slowly crept back in, seeping through the cracks. I’ve found myself grinding my teeth; repressing thoughts - avoiding thoughts…Gritting my teeth even harder, until my jaw becomes sore.
Deep breaths.
Deep, deep breaths.
At times, I can only get up and walk around, breathing deeply and holding my head in my hands…
I hate feeling like this.
I should feel like I always used to - but yet, THAT is a Catch 22.
Minus so much consumption of: alcohol, nicotine…anything else (just about, but not exactly). I used to feel the energy of having energy. But that energy was based in anxiety and nervousness. I’m thinking that my hands always need to be busy, to slow down the brain, maybe…
I feel frumpy and sluggish and out of shape.
Bloated.
Thick.
I’m beginning to dwell on self-conscious, negative thoughts, even though I’ve got a beautiful soul who tells me everyday that I’m beautiful and sexy and makes me feel wanted.
I guess this may always be my struggle.
The man in the chair, in the corner of my mind…
The thought of Darshan; of peace.
I think of millions of coping strategies, but can only do a few things -
Breath (deeply)
And pace
And tug at hair.
But the anxiety only builds from there.
AND SO, I resort to my old friends, pen and paper.
Something is telling me to go outside and sweat. Exercise. Do something useful or productive. But, here I sit, in the corner of a dimly lit room, barricaded from the outside.
I’ve got many triggers it seems. Triggers, just like the one that pulls the hammer down…
BAM!
Waking to intense brain activity, I only want it to slow,
BUT I FEED IT!!!!
YES! --
Let’s take all that nervous energy and add a ton of stiMULAtIoN to it - like nicotine and caffeine and then try to dumb it down, with chemical elation.
“Kill your health, and kill yourself and kill everything you love…”
(the burden in my hand)
WHAT a perfect description of my current state of mind. Killing my health. I have to change the ways of certain things I am always inclined to do. Like smoke and consume and do anything to make my head feel better but the GOD DAMNED THING about ALL of it is that it’s always something FUCKING NEGATIVE!
Bad JuJu!
There it is again, clenching my teeth together and if you, ghost reader - could see the actual handwriting on this page -
It is stabbed into paper, through several sheets, there are still impressions of pen marks.
I am sweating profusely and my frontal lobe of my brain is twisting (or so it feels like) around, no aching involved really, other than the fact that this is driving me INSANE.
I’m sweating and can nearly SEE the toxinsl I can almost taste them through the smell of persperation.
But yet, I’m much, much better than I was nearly a year ago…About nine months ago, the choice way to wake and start the day was espresso and opiates.
Lots of both.
But usually more opiates.
Sometimes, they were more plentiful and available than coffee.
AND, with my personality, I say:
“YESSSSSSS, I would LOVE to InGest Some ChemICALS!”
Then, eventually, I realized the misery my soul was morphing through…And I quit. For a little bit.
(Remember, it’s always just for a little bit).
I think that I need to quit doing things. But then (of course), I think “well what fun would life be without drinking or other things?”
Of course. THAT is the whole problem.
Everyday, we must learn to live with things as well as WITHOUT them too.
Ups and downs.
Chutes and ladders…
Checkmate.
Game of Life…
(ShuT UP)
I usually never put too much stock in things like mood rings, but today - the usually bright green and blue ring has turned a dark, dark, ominous blue-black color… I suppose my energy, the actual, physiological changes that occur when our brain chemicals are out of whack are affected by this…Maybe - it’s “ancient Chinese secret”.
---------------------------------
When I woke, I thought of two things:
1. “Maybe I have some money in the account today”
2. “Maybe….I can find some good pills today, too…”
Bad, Bad thoughts.
BAD JUJU!
It’s Page 5 now. Current, random thought:
Can’t breathe.
But now, I want to SMOKE something. Looking for a notebook that contained a long-gone thought…Thinking of music I want to hear but can’t find…
Thinking about how everyone is asking me if I’ve put on weight - (stop)
Feeling self-conscious. Feelign the need to cloak myself; to hide. But, we’ve already talked about that.
I need something to occupy these “devils playgrounds” of hands, but for now, they only keep writing; keep pouring out spew and shit and mean words; bad thoughts, directed at myself.
Totally overwhelmed.
Repetitive.
And, I’ve found the notebook, and the thought that I had previously captured. It’s suiting to the repitition part of this, this insanity; this madness…
“I feel a fury - to carve words
Into the trees
Into the concrete
Chiseled angrily; splintered unto splinters…
Shattering layers and years;
Breaking open new ground
Shedding new tears
And old skin…”
-fin-
Copyright K. Anne Smith
