The Bloody Doors Off

You walked into my house last night
I couldn’t help but notice
A light that was long gone still burning strong
You were sitting, your fingers like fuses
Your eyes were cinnamon

Stolen Car, Beth Orton

Woke at 2:30 am to a blood sugar low. (That’s been occurring of late.)

Woke again at 5:30 am and stayed upright.

Strangely, I feel calm. Nothing like yesterday.

Not gonna scratch that surface. Might discover something I don’t like underneath.

I had confusing dreams of city transit buses that led to nowhere.

Of riding subway cars that stalled as soon as they exited the station.

It was light out in the middle of the night.

I didn’t know my destination. Except ‘home’.

Which probably meant here in the Distillery.

I can’t be sure.

I can’t be sure how the day’s gonna go.

But I have hope in today.

And that’s more than I could say yesterday.

“Kathy, I’m lost”, I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why

America, Simon & Garfunkle

I slept another two hours.

Planned for one. Ignored the alarm.

Even after I got up, an internal argument ensued as to whether I wanted to remain awake.

Gravity did not win out. Take that, Newton’s Law of Universal Gravitation.

I’m gonna distract myself with Survivor.

I don’t trust myself to write this blog post.

I can’t promise full honesty. I reserve the right to wimp out, or even delete this entry at a future date.

The world is extremely hard today.

Emotionally, I’m crippled.

Physically, I’m exhausted. The past two days, I’ve gone back to bed in the middle of the day and slept for a few hours.

There’s a tingling sensation in the back, right quadrant of my head.

Started a few minutes ago.

I’d rather cope with that, than deal with my other issues.

I don’t know why I feel this way. “This shall pass” helps in the moment. But overall.

I performed a mental checklist to see if I felt I was a danger or in danger.

The answer, while negative, was not immediate. And that scares me.

I can’t function on the lithium, but.

But what?

Do I go back on to the abilify?

I honestly don’t have any answers.

And I feel guilty for venting, because I know there are others worse off than me.

All of this is on a seemingly endless loop.

With a million neon rainbows burning below me,
And a million blazing taxis raising a roar,
Here I sit, above the town,
In my pet-palliated gown,
Down in the depths
On the ninetieth floor

While the crowds in all the nightclubs punish the parquet,
And the bars are packed with couples calling for more,
I’m deserted and depressed
In my regal-eagle mess,
Down in the depths
On the ninetieth floor

Down in the Depths, Cole Porter

Being out of the loop sucks. It doesn’t help when others aren’t in the loop either. It can make for chaotic days.

I could’ve slept another two hours.

Can’t change things now. Just have to roll with it.

Maybe work will come in to distract me.

Is everyone enjoying my ‘day in the life’?

Trust me, I’ve only written a fraction of the shit that’s run through my brain. I found a music video of Kirsten Dunst singing “Turning Japanese”. Shot in 2015. It was. Embarrassing.

If I’d seen that during my stay in Ward H, I might’ve been convinced to stay longer.

Looking back, I’m kinda surprised they let me self-discharge after the mandatory seventy-two hour hold. I was not ready. And I wasn’t ready to admit I wasn’t ready.

There was an easier reason to have a smoke. Hell, they have scheduled outside breaks. That I would’ve gotten to take part in if I’d remained. Would I have still quit smoking, or held onto the vice to get me through an extended hospital stay.

And I don’t feel like going down the ‘alternate life lived’ path.

I think I remember why I shelved Possession some time ago.

It made me go to dark places.

Stray thoughts were forming just now, and coalesced into a line of dialogue. (This is how A Song For Rachel began.)

Ten words.

Told me everything I need to know about the antagonist.

The protagonist just called him Eddie.

I already don’t like him.

Oh my god, how can it only be 1pm?

This is torture.

I’m way too fast for this day.

And we don’t have cookies. Why don’t we have cookies?

Who ate all the bloody cookies?

Oh yeah, that was me.

Well, I want more.

Yes, I’m diabetic.

Hey, I’ll have you know my most recent A1C was 6.4, which is considered “pre-diabetic”. When I was diagnosed in 2007, my A1C was triple that. So whatever I’ve been doing, coupled with the medications, is doing just fine. I even dropped my insulin units down to 52 today.

So I want a cookie, dammit.

Looking to score some double-stuffed Oreos. Anyone holding?

(And no, that’s not a veiled ask for drugs. I’m making a joke.)

Ya’ll need to lighten up.

I need to lighten up.

Everything is so serious lately.

I don’t wanna relive my life. But there are periods of time I’d love to re-experience.

Like when I was a kid, playing with the neighbour kids after school, usually hide and seek, until the streetlights came on and our mums called us in for dinner.

Nothing was serious back then.

I don’t mean to say things are tense. Just that I’m putting undue pressure on myself of late.

Forgetting to take time out for play.

Is that why everything feels so off-balance?

I absorb stress.

It’s not enough I generate copious amounts of my own; when others are stressed around me, I tend to pull it into me as well.

Okay, not always. But definitely always.

I spent fifty years doing things on my own timetable. It’s taking a lot of unlearning to correct that. Just because I think something should be done a certain way, doesn’t mean it’s the correct course of action.

Water off a duck’s back? I’d be drowning in it. And I’m tired of dog paddling. I want to swim with the current.

Fuck, I’m so tense this morning my head feels like it’s gonna pop off my neck.

Why am I like this? And how do I change this behaviour?

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
Bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
Never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday

Commencement speech read by an unknown to me woman, co-opted into a hit spoken-word song by Baz Luhrmann

I should’ve caught it.

Just one email would’ve debunked the ask.

I had the power to stop it.

That’s like falling for the Nigerian Prince scheme.

Yes, I’m reflecting on the scam from a few months back.

This is how my brain works.

I torture myself by reliving past mistakes and dissecting every moment.

I should sell tickets.

I could sell tickets.

My tongue is sore, has been for a week. I thought I’d bit it. Can’t see any abrasions in the mirror.

And now there’s both a pain in my eardrum and behind my ear.

It’s fun being me.

An idea I abandoned a few years ago.

Beginning to think it just lay dormant.

Same thing with A Song For Rachel.

Never say ‘never’.

Let’s hope it breaks through my writer’s block.