Oh, You Knew it was Coming... Part II
I'm really not sure how to write this post. Not really sure how to begin or where to go with it, but here I am.
So, a dear friend of mine called me twice this week, which is out of the ordinary for him. He's not really a phone person and we see each other so frequently that phoning is not really necessary. But he called me twice this week and when I asked him what was up, he responded "Like, why am I calling you?" And I was like, "Yeah?" and he was like "Because I haven't freakin' seen you in like, two weeks and I was wondering where you've been."
Oh, right. Because I haven't really bothered to leave my house or shower or put on pants more than is absolutely necessary to go to work.
And I work in a place where it is perfectly fine to go in wearing your jammies if you so desire.
Not that I've gotten to that point or anything, but yeah. Jammies. Hermit. Not leaving house. Far too much cuddling with a very smelly beagle. Staring listlessly off into space. Avoiding human interaction. Avoiding interaction with anything other than mindless novels or my laptop.
That's me!
Another phone call came in a few weeks ago from my dearest Mal. It was one of those two a.m. phone calls that we are so fond of making. In fact, tonight when she called at a little after midnight, my father didn't even bother saying "Who the hell is calling this late?" as he usually does. Because that's just how we roll, us middle-of-the-nighters.
And Mal had some concerns and she listed them quite bluntly and I was like, "Dude?" and she was like, "No, Dude." And I was like, "Nah, Dude!" and she was like, "Seriously. Dude."
And I promised her after that phone call that I would do something with myself because her concerns were very valid, very real, very true.
I just haven't been myself the last several months. And I could easily launch into the tales that I have subjected my friends to but really, who wants to write about that sort of thing on the Internet? Plus, I try to avoid incriminating myself. Not that I've done anything illegal.
Just crazy.
Just The Big Crazy.
Just that fucking thing that follows me wherever I go, that little trail of "Haha, I've got you in my grips and I'm not letting go-o!" Just that piece of me that I fight with and that I hate, that occasionally controls my life and renders me unable to function. You know, that little teeny tiny thing that just won't go away and just won't leave me alone no matter how hard or try or how long I battle.
I'm angry. I tried for over a year. I gave it a valiant effort. I tried being unmedicated and pretending to be sane and my best efforts didn't make me an easier person for others to be around. I'm just so *pissed off* that its back again. (Or maybe that it never went away?) I thought, like every other time I've tried, that it was gone for good and that I could just carry on with my life.
Sigh.
Enough negativity.
I've seen my trusty Dr. Chuck and been prescribed something new and wonderful, along with a couple of old stand-bys. I'm feeling a little more human, a little more able to cope. The feeling that my brain is about to spew out my ears all over the people I work with has faded a little bit, and that rising hysteria that I feel all the time is waning. I've also slept lately, deep and glorious sleep. Since Christmas, I'll honestly say that I've been running on a few hours here and there, that my body has been so angry at me for not sleeping that it started exacting its revenge via acne and other craziness.
I'd like to be able to say something like "Oh, well! This too shall pass!" But I can't because I've got a funny feeling that it won't. That this is just the way I'm made and that I'm going to stay being this way forever.
So I stopped in to visit my dear friend for an hour after work yesterday. I was telling him how I've been feeling and why I haven't left the house and he was quite sympathetic.
And then he slapped my elbow and grinned and said "Buck up! Life is better through chemistry!"
And I guess for now, I have to accept that this is, in my case, true.
So, a dear friend of mine called me twice this week, which is out of the ordinary for him. He's not really a phone person and we see each other so frequently that phoning is not really necessary. But he called me twice this week and when I asked him what was up, he responded "Like, why am I calling you?" And I was like, "Yeah?" and he was like "Because I haven't freakin' seen you in like, two weeks and I was wondering where you've been."
Oh, right. Because I haven't really bothered to leave my house or shower or put on pants more than is absolutely necessary to go to work.
And I work in a place where it is perfectly fine to go in wearing your jammies if you so desire.
Not that I've gotten to that point or anything, but yeah. Jammies. Hermit. Not leaving house. Far too much cuddling with a very smelly beagle. Staring listlessly off into space. Avoiding human interaction. Avoiding interaction with anything other than mindless novels or my laptop.
That's me!
Another phone call came in a few weeks ago from my dearest Mal. It was one of those two a.m. phone calls that we are so fond of making. In fact, tonight when she called at a little after midnight, my father didn't even bother saying "Who the hell is calling this late?" as he usually does. Because that's just how we roll, us middle-of-the-nighters.
And Mal had some concerns and she listed them quite bluntly and I was like, "Dude?" and she was like, "No, Dude." And I was like, "Nah, Dude!" and she was like, "Seriously. Dude."
And I promised her after that phone call that I would do something with myself because her concerns were very valid, very real, very true.
I just haven't been myself the last several months. And I could easily launch into the tales that I have subjected my friends to but really, who wants to write about that sort of thing on the Internet? Plus, I try to avoid incriminating myself. Not that I've done anything illegal.
Just crazy.
Just The Big Crazy.
Just that fucking thing that follows me wherever I go, that little trail of "Haha, I've got you in my grips and I'm not letting go-o!" Just that piece of me that I fight with and that I hate, that occasionally controls my life and renders me unable to function. You know, that little teeny tiny thing that just won't go away and just won't leave me alone no matter how hard or try or how long I battle.
I'm angry. I tried for over a year. I gave it a valiant effort. I tried being unmedicated and pretending to be sane and my best efforts didn't make me an easier person for others to be around. I'm just so *pissed off* that its back again. (Or maybe that it never went away?) I thought, like every other time I've tried, that it was gone for good and that I could just carry on with my life.
Sigh.
Enough negativity.
I've seen my trusty Dr. Chuck and been prescribed something new and wonderful, along with a couple of old stand-bys. I'm feeling a little more human, a little more able to cope. The feeling that my brain is about to spew out my ears all over the people I work with has faded a little bit, and that rising hysteria that I feel all the time is waning. I've also slept lately, deep and glorious sleep. Since Christmas, I'll honestly say that I've been running on a few hours here and there, that my body has been so angry at me for not sleeping that it started exacting its revenge via acne and other craziness.
I'd like to be able to say something like "Oh, well! This too shall pass!" But I can't because I've got a funny feeling that it won't. That this is just the way I'm made and that I'm going to stay being this way forever.
So I stopped in to visit my dear friend for an hour after work yesterday. I was telling him how I've been feeling and why I haven't left the house and he was quite sympathetic.
And then he slapped my elbow and grinned and said "Buck up! Life is better through chemistry!"
And I guess for now, I have to accept that this is, in my case, true.
Labels: Crazed + maniacal
posted by Amanda at 00:53
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