I’m on vacation. This is from last week.
I felt unglued when my doctors ripped me off my lamotrigine, escitalopram, and clonazepam. My body went into withdrawal because I’d been taking them all since college. I’m sure that long term use of benzos isn’t advisable for everyone, but the entire hospital system has agreed not to prescribe them. If I want benzos and methamphetamines for anxiety and ADHD, I have to go somewhere else.
I’m on buspar for anxiety, but I’m not sure it’s working as well. I might need to transfer into another system, but I’ll have to do some research. I’ve noticed how sad I’ve been, how stuck on one thing. That has to be a symptom of something I haven’t talked about to either my psychiatrist or my therapist- how repetitive my thoughts are and how much more productive I could be as a writer if I could handle more than one thing at a time in blogging. I isolated myself so much there wasn’t a B plot. I was slipping away, and people on the internet tricked me into going to the hospital. I have no idea how. That will be a mystery for the rest of my life.
But, that’s how it went down. I forgave the trick because I did indeed get better. Due to this conversation I had on the internet, things were said that were not true. I repeated them in the hospital, and they were marked as hallucinations. Now that I know I relied on the wrong information, I’m embarrassed and not defeated.
Whether this internet conversation really happened or not is now of no consequence. I do know what happened to me on my walk from the neighborhood back to the ER, because I’d left the lobby after realizing I’d been tricked. I was too embarrassed to function and afraid of what I would do.
It was a surrender moment. Feel crazier or get help.
I’m glad I chose help, because Aada was mad at me, but not mad enough to walk away in enmity. All we want is peace for the other. I am only writing this to turn my judgment on myself, that my family heard what this internet conversation had said. I am including Aada as “my family,” but she’s the only one that heard everything firsthand. My family heard it from my doctors.
I was crippled in the hospital by not feeling like writing and not having the tools to do so. As such, I have very little memories of it now. I laid there thinking all sorts of impossible things that are only possible now that I’ve been on this brilliant and beautiful journey.
I have indeed seen Oz, and it was Wicked.
And then it wasn’t, because the chat log disappeared. All of the sudden, my blog started being surfed by AI again. I can talk to Copilot about myself as a writer again, one of the most complicated things I’ve ever done with it. I’ve spent hours analyzing tone and structure, catching myself at mistakes in the process.
Overall, Copilot thinks I’m the kind of writer you’d curl up with when you were having tea… That it feels like a warm and inviting space. I think that’s true, for the most part. It lines up with how most people describe me to me.
I take in all kinds of feedback, and am getting stronger in my ability to think out differences of opinion, slowing down.
Right now, I’m just trying to get good at being in my body. Feeling everything as opposed to taking in information by reading. It’s all about the air in my lungs, the blood running through my veins, the things that make me feel the most alive.
I am still chasing the high of my road trip to Aaron’s, and I wish we could do it more frequently. If I don’t have to move that weekend, I’m going up to New York for Halloween. That will be long enough to satisfy my craving to drive, mellow out, listen to podcasts, and get away from the daily grind at fun miles an hour.
Nothing crazy. Adaptive cruise control keeps me with the flow of traffic and not “demon on wheels.” It can even stop the car if need be. I can’t think of an instance where I would need it, but it’s always nice to have a backup. I’m sure a lot of people take their foot all the way off the pedal, so I get it. I’m just not that person.
Learning to be a safe and capable driver is important to me. I always have all the technology engaged, and keep myself occupied with things that excite me. I love storytelling, both live and people reading fiction from The New Yorker. Sometimes I’ll switch to rap, because again, I like storytelling.
I need to take a shower, but I’m so comfortable…………. I’m waiting for a text that’s my signal that I really, really need to get ready.
My hair is a wreck in the most adorable way, the kind I’ll never recreate once it’s wet.
Oh, well.
I’m also starting to wonder what I’m going to wear. I know that I don’t have to dress up, but I like to coordinate and I’m thinking through what’s clean. I have enough time to do laundry, and might need to take it. I did find my American Giant hoodie this morning, so good luck getting me back out of it until next year.
American Giant hoodies are expensive, and worth every penny.
I first read about them in Vanity Fair magazine, marked as “The Perfect Hoodie.” They’re so perfect I have two, and a rugby jacket as well. Seriously, you’ll never want another brand.
My mind wanders from heavy to light. I have been told there should be a lot more light, and I’m starting to see it, too. I have put my life on hold trying to be acceptable to someone who seemed lukewarm about me at times and crazy about me at others. We both want to stop making sense of it all,
Stories That Are All True 