It all started with collapsing in exhaustion on my couch at around 7pm. I woke later. It was probably ten or so. I was too hot, so I went into the kitchen to open the window and the plant on the sill fell into the sink. My dog, who I believe has some kind of emotional disorder of her own, ran off and acted all afraid of me which only angered me more. After all didn’t she know just how fucking exhausted I was. I was burning the candle at both ends day and night.
Time warped as it always does and I very methodically picked up the plant and ripped it our of the pot and smashed the pot on the floor. That felt good… It was the antique ball jars next, filled with freshly ground coffee, and sugar. They went away… on the floor with the rest of the broken pieces of my life. I swept the counter and my coffee maker crashed to the floor. Glass was everywhere. And I felt once again that this is what is going on inside of my mind and I only have a tenuous grip on what can and can’t be let out. I walked away and was perfectly prepared to leave the room in ruins, but I worried about my dog cutting her feet on all the glass so I did an arbitrary sweep of the room.
One week later I was trying to get pasta sauce out of my white robe. I was rinsing it in the bathroom. Again my reality slipped and I just kept on swishing the water in the sink to wash, wash, wash. The next thing I know is that water is going all over the bathroom. And…. it seemed okay. I felt removed. Outside of my tiny little life of work, anger and strife. The bathroom flooded. There was an inch of water on the floor. I left the room and tore out the curtains from the 9 foot ceilings. I would have continued, but I realized my son was sleeping down the hall. I wondered what he would think of the bathroom left like that, so I started to clean up. everything shoved into the tub for the time being. I didn’t realize the extent of my fit though. The drawers were filled as well and I had warped the wood. They now wouldn’t close properly. I really fucked myself this time!
Time to go back to my shrink, only to find out that she had vacated and left me with no referral. What a fucking bitch. I could have jumped over the counter of the desk and strangled the scheduler when she suggested getting me in with another PA next week. Jesus Christ! What part of cracking up didn’t she get! Was I supposed to check into the psych ward? Keeping it together was not an option. I did find someone however. Someone I could get into the next day. He’s cool though. Doesn’t ask me all of those redundant questions. He just upped my medication and gave me some tranquilizers. So the drug cocktail I was hoping to avoid may already be here. I’m on Lamictal for the bipolar, Mirtazipene to help me sleep, Klonopin for aggitation. I do feel better though….
I still want to go away. I need a serious break. I still don’t feel well. Stable. I wan’t to go live with the elves. Removed from society. Live the simple quite life.