Currently I want to listen to nothing but Warp 11 music. “Rand” is my current earworm of choice.
In the last two weeks—or at least, the amorphous blob of time I’ll call “two weeks”—life has been kind of hellish, in a “actually it was total hell” kind of way.
My mind has its little coping rails, and they work like this: as I approach T0, e.g. Christmas or New Year’s, my brain starts to forget that we were ever on course. This is briefly beneficial, as I stop spending time consciously worrying about any of it, but not beneficial in the end, as I then don’t consciously do anything to mitigate what happens. I mean, why would I? I stop noticing what’s happening, even as others observe that the effects get worse and worse.
So the Plan didn’t get executed for Christmas. What happened was that on Christmas Day, I stopped talking to anybody. This is never a good sign, and around midnight I quickly flailed into madness. Thanks to a couple of friends, this somewhat stopped happening, but isolation does bad things to me—CONFIRMED, as they would say on Mythbusters.
Interestingly, I was then fine on Boxing Day, the 26th, but then descended into madness again on the 27th. However, I now was a little more aware of what was going on because my friends kept nagging me to not isolate myself, for which I am very grateful, because on the 28th I managed to convince myself it was only the 27th; would have been ditto for the 29th were it not for my friends, who are awesome. By this time I had eaten into a Xanax prescription that had only been refilled on the 22nd and badly needed MOAR and unfortunately wasn’t going to get it, until I called my candyman’s ((E.g., my psychiatrist. Psychologist is my bartender.)) and got an appointment for pretty much the next day, it was obvious the situation was a bit bad.
In the dregs of 2009 (I see from my blog) my candyman told me that no amount of medication would stop the PTSD train from coming. He was right. Near the dregs of 2010, my bartender told me to “let the train go through you”, which would have been an improvement on what I actually did, which was to ignore that the train was coming at all and then be totally gobsmacked when it did run me over.
Anyways, I got more Xanax, and it didn’t help to stop the insanity of the 31st, and the only reason I didn’t completely lose my mind was, pretty much, due to having a real support network for the first time in a couple years. New Year’s was bad. The 2nd was bad. I don’t remember anything else after that until really today.
And today my brain is starting to erase the last two weeks, for some value of “two weeks”, just as it erased the 2009 holidays.
So I’m writing this down. Maybe in 2011 I’ll figure out how to let the train go through me in a nicer fashion and to actually stand my ground. Or maybe not.
Oh. In the previous phase, I usually want to listen to nothing but The Beatles. Didn’t happen this time. Could’ve helped.
She used to mainline the Venus drug
Cut with pure alcohol
She was fired, you know
After six episodes
And my heart was forever broken
When she left the show
I’ll be your man
Captain Kirk had his hand up your skirt but I don’t give a damn
— “Rand”, Warp 11
2 thoughts on “It Goes in Phases”
I’ve been thinking of you. “Let the train run through you” is a powerful attitude, and useful for me. I’m having to go off some of my meds before a surgery, and I’m (unsurprisingly) very anxious about what sort of state I’m going to be in. Mostly I keep reminding myself that the wheel of the year rotates, and it will come back up again (sometime!) I hope the same is true for you.
*hugs* Thank you. And I hope surgery and the new med routine work out. My thoughts are with you, too.
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