This song keeps running through my head. I’m nearing the end (I hope) of a fade. I have been falling gradually but significantly in the past few weeks. I’m concerned. Based on history, it shouldn’t be long before I’m quite crazy.
I realized today just how fucked up I am. The choir performance went fine, except for my not knowing which Friday the festival is on, even though I’m planning it. On the way to the taste test the confusion began. Now taste tests are not that difficult – sign in, eat, answer questions, get paid. I’ve done a ton of them. Not easy for me today. I was confused by the signs that said “Panel” instead of “Taste Test.” The software I’ve used for several years I couldn’t figure out. Halfway through I changed. I went from being alert, enjoying the food, and answering fully to very weak and tired, anxious, and unable to think, read the questions or answer clearly.
I went to my therapist’s from there and tried to comprehend his face as I explained that I’ve been convinced that I’m either being followed by spirits or losing my mind and that God is still following me. I’m aware that these are crazy things, but they’re very real to me. And they’re scary. He classifies them as psychotic. I don’t blame him. He asked how much I believe this could be my brain tricking me. About 50/50. I believe in spirits. Apparently he doesn’t.
I left there and had the most peaceful time at the beach. I found a rock that looks like a moray and took it, but I feel weird about that. There’s a spirit in the rock. And morays have always creeped me out.
I knew not to go home so I met a friend for dinner and a movie. But I had 2 hours to kill at the mall beforehand. I returned something and went to the food court to be schooled by a breadstick. There was a guy giving samples. They were scrumptious. He was too talented and smart to work there. So I decided to order some and looked at the menu. It said under Side Orders “Garlic Breadsticks $1.29.” I asked how many are in an order. The non-sample guy said, “One.” Mass confusion. “But there’s an S. That indicates plural breadsticks.” He just looked at me. My anxiety was through the roof, heart racing, confusion rampant. I asked how much this one non-plural breadstick was and he said, “$1.42.” (?) “But the sign says $1.29.” “Plus tax,” he said, as if it was the norm for people to quote the price including taxed. I was poised to have a meltdown, literally…
(continued 5-14-10 5:02pm)
“Pump up the Jam” is playing now and I’m needing to dance. Music is a drug. A wonderful one.
Yes, I am approaching crazy. But for this moment I feel happy. A breadstick made clear the level of impairment confusion is causing me. I think I’m having a plethora of seizures. I’m writing down what I can. I have a journal just for that. Right now I am listening to music. Today I attempted to read a fashion blog. Didn’t work so well. It’s okay. Rocking and dancing in my head, completely thrown off by the sound of the wind chime outside and my mom clanging dishes. My neurologist is again NOT calling me back. Not a smart thing to do. I mean really. Why would you piss off a crazy person whose symptoms are triggered by being upset? My psychiatrist called me back this morning but I was sleeping.
Yes, I’m concerned. No, I don’t have any extra brainpower to devote to it. I have so much confusion and I’m going through these cycles of wide-eyed happiness followed by zaps and face stuff and exhaustion and headaches. The song on the radio now is driving me nuts. I don’t want to leave my computer chair.
(break to go outside)
I love Ricky Martin. I like being in my own world in the music. All the memories and the images in my head. (big yawn) Gosh, I’m tired. Give it about 10 minutes… Nope, just 30 seconds. Tapping, full of energy. Typing correctly is not easy when your arm is resting on your moving leg. ;)
Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” always speaks to me. It’s so true. “I can’t remember but it’s alright, alright. Just dance. Gonna be okay…” Dance and music make almost anything okay.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010