Into the void...

2002-11-27

11:49 a.m.

The weather today is unlike any I’ve seen in far too long. When I stepped out the front door this morning, I looked down at the porch and was struck by the fact that there was an odd discoloration covering the entire top of the porch. Then I realized it was snow. It’s amazing how quickly you can forget what snow looks like.

I love snow.

I’m unsure about what to really write about today. Rob was finally offered a full-time job yesterday, which is great news for both of us. It’s a great job, too. Now maybe the two of us can afford to eat. Somehow, no matter how closely I watch my money and keep my checkbook up to date, I still end up bouncing checks because the simple fact of the matter is that I’m not making enough money to live comfortably while continuing to pay off all the debts I incurred by moving to Georgia last year.

Hopefully that’ll all change soon.

I feel rather restless today. I feel like I want to go frolic in the snow and play like I’m seven years old again. I feel like maybe I want to go shopping and feel like I used to when I was in college, shopping before my Thanksgiving flights were scheduled. But then it occurs to me that I can’t be young again. I can’t go back. I can’t be happy.

And I never really was young OR happy.

Rob and I are going to make a huge Thanksgiving dinner. Last year’s turkey was positively amazing, so, if this year’s is anywhere close, we’ll be enjoying a wonderful feast tomorrow just like all the normal people in the world. Rob’s even thinking about making me a genuine southern pecan pie, even though I can never seem to pronounce the word "pecan" without tripping over it.

Mmm...pie....

We’ll have pumpkin pie, too, of course. Just because there’s only two of us doesn’t mean we can’t make enough food to feed an army. Thanksgiving last year with Rob was really, really nice, and I’m hoping this year’s holiday will be wonderful again. It will be nice to feel warm and comfortable in the apartment with Rob, the oven warming the air with the wonderful smell of pumpkin and pecan, sugar and spice, the snow outside making everything look calm and peaceful despite the fact that we really know all that’s outside our windows is pain and misfortune, horror and dread.

For one day, perhaps we can forget.

Once again, I’ve increased the dose of my meds without consulting my doctor. It actually works a lot better this way because it’s easy enough for me to know when the hell I feel like killing myself and when the hell I don’t. I don't need him to tell me that. If I feel rotten, I increase the dose BEFORE I see the doctor so I don’t have to wait another few weeks before seeing him again to discuss the changes he made. In other words, it’s just more efficient for me to change them myself as long as I know I have an upcoming appointment. Otherwise, the process would take twice as long because I’d have to wait for his permission before doing anything. Then, I’d go home for two weeks trying to decide if I feel better or worse, then go back to the doctor again.

I’m sick of going to the doctor.

I just want to be normal. I wish I could view the world through unmedicated eyes without feeling like I’m waiting to kill or be killed. I wish I could wake up every morning with some semblance of desire to go on with my life. I wonder how odd it really is to wake up just hoping your life will pass you by? I wonder how odd it really is to be waiting for the workday to end just because you feel like you’re going to fall over if you don’t go to bed right away? I know the actual essence of the feeling exists in most people, but the fact that, without medication, I can’t get out of bed makes my situation just a little bit different.

For the last several days, I’ve been plagued by the feeling that there’s something I really want or need to do and for some reason I’m either not doing it or I’m unable to do it or I’m being held back from doing it, and I don’t even really know what it is. I feel like there’s some result I’m awaiting, some treasure I’m expecting to fall into my hands, and I keep coming up empty-handed. What the hell could I possibly be feeling? What could I possibly want or need to do that I’m not doing?

I’m doing all that I can.

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