I’m off all meds at this point; have been for days. I worked right through my psychiatry appointment 2 weeks ago, and could not get any refills without seeing my psychiatrist first. So, I set myself up for disaster. Now I’m here, suffering through the withdrawal symptoms of the Effexor. My brain feels crushed against the inside of my skull. My stomach is constantly upset. My energy, despite the Aderall, is in the tank. I can hardly focus on anything, and I feel on the edge of sobbing every second of the day. I literally broke down into tears twice last night for almost no reason at all. Fear and anxiety are running totally rampant.
This has been in the background. I’ve been pressing on, and working, and putting on my happy face, and fighting to maintain stability. Thankfully, I see my doctor in about 45 minutes. I should have my medications today, and be back on track towards a healthier state very soon. At least, in my head…
Someone in my apartment complex falsely accused me of hitting some guy’s parked car on the street outside the building. I’ve been through the rigmarole with the insurance company, explaining that this report is based on hearsay, and claimed on my vehicle despite a sworn statement fingering a vehicle that does not match the vehicle I own. My vehicle has no damage on it. My vehicle is white, not brown. My wife has pink hair, and would be pretty easy to identify, as she was claimed as the responsible driver in said made-up incident. It stands to reason that grotesquely ignorant people are going to make up bullshit to create some drama in their otherwise pointless, un-evolved, pathetic lives. I utterly detest liars. I am planning to move the fuck out of this building relatively soon. Fuck this place and the garbage-people that reside here. Morons.
My reality is wrinkled from time to time. Not sure why this happens, but it does. The unknown of the next moment in time, while often benign, can sometime create a resounding impact, sending ripples across the surface of the pond. I have no reason to project, but instead, I cope with things as they arrive. I strive to be ready, rather than planning fruitlessly for the unrealized fate of us all.
In the Ideus (Bailey Family) league, I’ve clinched a playoff berth as the #4 seed. My record is 8-5, and I play my Cousin Jessica (10-3), the #1 seed. We’ve split our regular season match-ups (2), with a 20 point swing each way, per game. I’m in the playoffs for the second consecutive year (of the 3 the league has been in existence). I made it to the championship last season, and got annihilated. I’m tired of losing. I’m bored of second place. It’s my time to win. Just win, baby.
In the work league, in which I am the commissioner, I am FIGHTING for the #4 seed. There are 5 teams with the same, qualifying record (potentially). I hold the tiebreaker with the most points scored amongst them in the regular season. It’s come down to the final week, and 2 playoff berths are still available. Ideally, I’ll finish 7-7, and clinch my spot 7 days from this moment. I have some pretty tough, not opportune scenarios to contend with. The ebb and flow of fate is casting me, mercilessly, to and fro. Win one, lose two, win two, lose one. It’s come down to the final contest; luck is no bartering damsel. I have to ponder my possibilities, and do the best my ill-equipped brain can to achieve my postseason dreams.
I distract myself with work, play, and study. I try my best to find safe-harbor from the pain in my mind.
My wife and I had sex last night, and I came like a teenager, rapidly, through the first few moments of being inside her. Right as I felt her body beginning to warm up, the way girls do when they start the sensual climb, and then I started coming. It just rolled, and rolled, and kept pouring out of me, and it never truly climaxed, but felt like a dull glow through my body. My hardness remained through the sequence, but failed me just as she was getting worked-up. I felt like a disappointment, because I hate going first. I remind myself that this is rarely an issue. My self-maintenance in the absence of intercourse has been stagnant. I was longing for her, specifically. I imagine, if regularity returns, that this prematurity will fade, and the stamina I am accustomed to in familiarity, will return.
I am about ready to head out to the psychiatrist’s appointment I have scheduled. I hope to discuss a new, less heavy-duty, med routine. I want to cut one or two of them loose. I can’t function as I am now, but also can’t be medicated beyond accessibility. Balance is a difficult goal to achieve. But I’m going to do this. I have counseling scheduled for the 17th, and I fully intend to make positive steps in the direction of positivity, stability and happiness.