Weary

Some vignettes pondering as  I wonder if I am finally slipping out of my mental capacities. Non compos mentis. The lunatic is in my head

In no particular order. Seeing the Trade Center bombed twice. Volunteering at Ground Zero after the event and wondering if the smell of ashes would ever come out. Amsterdam with Pooky when Theo Van Gogh died.  Driving in the car with mom and dad when Nixon resigned and dad pulling off the road and telling us children to "Put a sock in it' so he could hear the news".  Watching Secretariat win the Triple Crown. Waking up one morning and finding my mother weeping because Bobby Kennedy had been murdered, unconsolable. Me studying for my American History final and hearing about John Lennon and weeping, unconsolable.  Being an infant in my mothers arms and mother was listening to the radio and heard that JFK was murdered in Dallas and she stuck me with a diaper pin. Mom cried, and I cried. Watching the 84 Superbowl and seeing the Big Brother Apple ad. The one TV ad that still haunts me, after all these years. (That and the damn Goldwater Daisy ad which I saw in uni class). Popular culture- watching "Who Shot JR" and final epi of "M*A*S*H". School being cancelled for Luke and Laura's wedding. Loosing my virginity. Loosing my religion. Putting my cat to sleep as she lay in my arms.

Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa staying up to see Neil Armstrong on the moon. I kept falling asleep on the old blue couch. Mom kept pinching me to keep me awake, so I could see it. I was a small child. I didn't see why she wouldn't let me sleep. What was the big deal. Mom said it was the biggest event of my life.  Maybe it was. I dunno.

I want to thank the following friends who cared for me while I am having problems with my meds, my sanity, and very well may be going into the hospital in the next few days. I value each and every one of their friendship more than mere words can say.

In no particular order.

Caught in my bipolar burble
SemiCrazed
Coming Out Crazy
Chronic Impending Disaster
Finding Optimism
It's Quite An Experience
My Medicated Cartoon Life
Sonya's World
Struggling With The Elephant In The Room
Letting Go
Interchanges and Connections
Non Breaking Space
Red Pill Junkie's Blog
Agitation of Hand's Strength of Words
George the Duck (well, his human)
and lastly but of course, not leastly,
Life By Misadventure


And my friends too numerous to Name on Twitter.  I'll see you all on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Anhedonia

Med cocktail got tweaked at my IOP program this morning. I am currently on seven different psych meds. The more I try to be med free, the more I get over medicated. I don't care anymore, I don't feel anything. I cried buckets yesterday over the death/suicide of Alexander McQueen, I wanted to blog about it, but right now I cannot. Fighting the urge to SI. Fighting the urge to go off into that good night. Just fighting. Fighting. I could go into the ring right now with Mike Tyson if I wanted to and kick his ass. Only I don't care. I don't care anymore, I am numb. I'm sorry, I want to write and cannot.

Here are two videos that seem to say what I cannot. Take care. Sorry about the edges, I cannot seem to get them proper.

I wish I could stop feeling like Percivale

 "Thereafter, the dark warning of our King,
That most of us would follow wandering fires,
Came like a driving gloom across my mind.
Then every evil word I had spoken once,
And every evil thought I had thought of old,
And every evil deed I ever did,
Awoke and cried, 'This Quest is not for thee.'
And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself
Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns,
And I was thirsty even unto death;
And I, too, cried, 'This Quest is not for thee.'

Tennyson, The Idylls of the King.

I have always thought I could be  Percivale the most true and noble of all of Arthur's knights. Going through life thinking you aren't good enough for anything, and if something good should happen to you you still aren't worthy.

Sometimes I feel like I am being punished for past sins. For  sins in this life and in past ones. I have stopped expecting anything good to happen to me. A good day is a day when my brain actually lets me read or watch TV, a bad day is a day where I have a migraine from my med cocktail and stay in bed most of the day. A good day is a day I can call my mother and conversate, a bad day is I cannot even talk.

I don't know what sins I must atone for, if I knew, I would write them down, weave them into a hair shirt and flagellate myself.  But I feel I must have done something, so bad, so horrible in this this life or a past one I cannot get better until I atone.

I once did see the Holy Grail- my version of it, what it would be to me. I saw it for a moment and it was gone.  In fact, here is my whole life put into one haunting song lyric.


"When I was a child,
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb"

Pink Floyd, "Comfortably Numb"

But I don't feel comfortably numb anymore. I feel dead, hollow, stuffed with straw, waiting for the worms or madness which ever comes first.