The Bloody Doors Off

I really wish there was an upgrade I could order for my brain.

Or a factory reset.

Microsoft pretty much admitted this week that they’re re-releasing Windows 7 due to “popular demand” (meaning, Windows 8 ain’t doing that well among users). I’d really love to run a system restore on my mental/emotional state sometimes.

But then, when I consider how far back I’d have to go, well I don’t think there’s that much storage available.

Go back to 2007 when I finally got diagnosed? That was the spring/summer of hell. I spent nights in terror, I couldn’t stop crying.

To my early 30s? When I was working midnights? Maybe if I was more self-aware, my relationship with Suzi wouldn’t have crumbled. Unless I got diagnosed and on meds, I suspect the same outcome.

So, further back. To my mid-20s when I was doing improv? I was also freelancing and barely making a living (gee that sounds vaguely familiar). Living above a pawn shop, relying on a pager and a pay phone because I couldn’t afford a land line.

A teenager? Barely getting through high school, sleeping until noon. Besides, who ever says “oh wow, if I could just relive high school, that’d be awesome!”

No. There’s no going back. No resets.

Gotta wait for the next upgrade then. Which, because the specialist at CAMH is on vacation until March, won’t happen for another 6 weeks. And that’s a conservative estimate.