Been having a little pity-party for one today. Fueled by a big ass bottle of cheap whiskey I bought a few weeks back and a quarter of the expensive weed my plug/buddy dropped off earlier. 

I’m lonely as fuck. I’d never actually say that out loud to anyone. I’m sure with everyone currently on lockdown, I’m not the only one feeling this. That’s my problem. I can never just allow myself to feel what I’m feeling because other’s have it worse than me. “It’s not that bad.” Doesn’t negate what I’M feeling tho.

I had an early morning conversation today with an old friend who I lost touch with years ago. It stirred up a lot of shit inside. Talking to her was cool and I enjoyed reconnecting, but it Got me thinking of some really good people I had in my life. Real friends who I pushed away with my bull shit or my indifference. Or because I was too wrapped up in my own drama to pay attention to anything else. One in particular stood out. I couldn’t remain friends with this person out of guilt from a betrayal I can’t unburden myself from. It’s not even that I’m being a pussy and am too scared to admit what I did. My actions alone were bad enough. I wont completely uproot this person’s life for my need to feel better about myself. It would destroy them. I deserve the guilt. I should feel it festering inside as a reminder not to be a shit person anymore. 

Trying to get my mind off things I almost ended up grabbing some bomb food truck tacos up north with this skater kid I know. but then his guy gave him shit about going to get tacos during a global pandemic so those plans got axed. I can see his point, I guess. We still gotta eat tho and it is cinco de mayo. (Side note: i’ve been saying “cinco de minco” and laughing like an idiot, extremely pleased with myself, all fucking day.) 

I wasn’t even trying to fuck skater kid, which I’m sure both he and his live-in boyfriend thought. Really, I just wanted to hang out. And eat tacos. And drink whiskey. I mean more than likely we would have ended up fucking but that’s not the point. 

I am a shit person.

I just had my first anxiety attack in over three years. It came out of nowhere. I was watching Game of Thrones, not thinking of, or worrying about, anything in particular. Felt perfectly fine. suddenly there was a tightness in my chest. My breath became ragged and i could feel pressure building between my ears. My head spun, and even though my vision was strangely crisp, there still was a haze around the boarders like a weird frame. My skin felt tight around me, like a mummy, constricted. 

Then I couldnt be still. My body vibrated like a tune fork on the wrong note. I began pacing through the house, no one was home. Attempting to regulate my breathing, i could feel that familiar despair rising up from wherever it had been holed up inside me. I could feel the tears pooling around my eyeballs but Like so many times before i managed to swallow it all back down. not the healthiest thing to do with all that negative energy but adding crying to the mix probably would have prolonged this episode. I went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror over the doors on the medicine cabinet. I tried some breathing exercises i got off youtube years ago but for some reason looking at myself only managed to bring back more tears i had to fight.

With shaking hands i managed to make myself a cup of chamomile tea. I had to strain the first cup since i accidentally ripped the tea bag. Poured myself some whiskey. Thought about working out to try to focus but speeding up my heartbeat even more right now would be stupid. 

So i began to write until i calmed down.

Feeling better now. Much better. Guess being on lockdown for so long is taking a toll.

Been feeling better. Unfortunately feeling better doesn’t automatically fix my situation. Still unemployed, still broke. Got motivation. But I Just have only a few options on where to exert that motivation.

I’m not feeling down or depressed but there’s still an odd guilt. Like I’m embarrassed. Not depressed, But the anxiety is still there. Still holding up in my bedroom. It’s a little hard to have all these feelings and emotions in a house that’s always full of people.

I was invited to hang out for beer pong and video games at a friend’s apartment this weekend . Something to look forward to. Of course I’m sure there’ll be binge drinking involved but I haven’t drank since Labor Day so it’s cool. I’ll just make sure not to take my meds that day. 

Wondering if I’ll be hearing from the Drug Buddy tomorrow night. It’s about that time again  but I’m not sure if the invite will be extended due to that unfortunate awkwardness after Labor Day. Either way, I won’t be partaking. I’ve been planning on taking a hiatus from the hard partying for awhile. Try to clean my act up a bit. 

3:47 am

Almost 4 am and I’m barely getting tired. Sounds about right. That’s been my sleep pattern for about two weeks now. Unfortunately here at my sister’s I won’t have the luxury of sleeping in like I do at home. My niece and nephew will be up by 7 am.  8 if I’m lucky. I did keep my nephew up way past his bedtime so we could watch Avengers: endgame.  

I almost feel like I might as well stay up now. If I sleep I’ll just wake up groggy and crabby. I don’t like being like that in front of the kids. I don’t like being like that in front of anyone but especially not them.

I want to watch the sun come up.

2:38 am

At my sister’s. It was a rough day. Productive. But rough. I thought I was starting therapy but it was another initial. A program where they take into account my history with substances and alcohol. They tried to piss test me but  refused. Fuck that. Unfortunately they’re testing my thyroid in two weeks so they’ll be drawing blood. I’m gonna have them test for everything else while they’re at it. Lots of uncomfortable questions. 

Head’s still pounding. Been up since before 6:30 am. Couldn’t sleep til after 2 am. I got a nug from my cousin. Smoking a little weed only is giving me motivation to get out of bed and do something. But the throb behind my eyes and the shooting pain at the back of my head is still there. Drank tea. I’m sipping on water as I’m sitting outside on the patio. Watching the sun peeking through the high trees canopying my aunt’s backyard. There’s a cool breeze. I can hear the constant buzzing of the traffic you get used to living on a busy city street. The other day I was out front smoking a cigarette and there was a strange moment where the street had no traffic. I found the odd moment of silence so strange but very calming. No moving cars. No people talking. No dogs barking. Nothing. Just quiet wind. It didn’t last long but it felt good.

Feeling a little better. I’m gonna try to make breakfast for everyone. 

I think I had another panic attack earlier. Since before noon this is the first time I’m feeling somewhat calm. I smoked whatever dust (weed dust) I had left with my one hitter. Smoked a cigarette from the pack my cousin’s girlfriend bought after the wedding. Swigged some wine from a coffee mug. I’m currently sitting on my bed, legs criss -cross over one another. My pitbull and my aunt’s two dogs curled up nearby. Today’s Days of our Lives is playing as background noise from my tablet as I’m thumb-typing my feelings into my IPhone. 

* * * *

…my happy place was just interrupted by my cousin, The Cop, dropping in to pay my mom for a job she did sewing him some sofa covers. I was awkward I’m sure. But I’m ok. Feeling much better. I watched a documentary the other day on Hulu about a pro surfer who had bipolar disorder. A doctor who has bipolar himself said something that really stuck with me. He said that he realized that a big part of dealing with being bipolar is “getting comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

I traded in my usually coffee for a chamomile/seven blossom/Passion flower tea. My mother and aunts swear by this concoction to calm one’s nerves.

I thought about whether I should mention this recent attack to my mother. Why make her worry? I’m ok now and it’s been documented so I can keep track of how often and maybe figure out a pattern.

Haven’t been able to sleep before 3:30 am this whole week. Sometimes later. I’m extra groggy today, a little irritable. It’s been almost a week since I started this medication. I’ve had a headache all morning. Feeling low. I don’t know if it’s the pills since I’ve been ok all week. Except for that panic attack last week on the way to Six Flags. Gonna see if I can get my sister to bring the kids over. I can use the distraction. On the verge of tears again, for no reason. A news report about a kid with blood cancer earlier almost made me cry.

An acquaintance offered me an interview at his job. Seems like easy work but I would be working just enough hours to barely miss full time employment status so no health insurance. Considering I’m about to start therapy every week again and the pills I’m on are $150 a bottle that’s a cause for concern. Sucks because I want to work. I’m bored and tired of being broke all the time.

Walking home at 10 in the morning. Still drunk. Still wired. looked like shit, probably smelled worse. Fighting tears pooling in my eyes. Holding the DC Superhero Girls birthday balloon my niece gave me. I just felt so empty. I feel so empty. My life is having less and less meaning and it’s beginning to scare me how unconcerned I am with my personal well being. Am I subconsciously hoping something else will do the job I know I never can. Even the possibility of nothingness doesn’t scare me like it used to. I just want to stop feeling like this. No worries tho. I could never do that to my family. My mother would never get over the guilt and I would never put my sister in a situation where she would have to explain to her kids why tio isn’t around anymore. If only I could give some of the love I have for my family to myself.

Maybe I should try therapy again. Taking my meds every now and then may be a good idea.

I didn’t get the job. Been pretty down about it. I don’t know why I was so excited. What the fuck was I going to do working in a church as the administrative assistant. To a priest no less.

I’d be living some kind of a life. That’s what I would have been doing.

Been over doing it a bit these last few days. Popping pills like candy. All my own prescriptions of course. Partying with my drug buddy in crime. Rolled out of bed sometime after 5pm after sleeping one off. The Metalhead greeted me with his usual Friday evening message. He wanted to make sure I knew he was home from work, alone and beating off. Even sent a pic in case I needed further persuading. He suggested I come over and help him out while he plays Super Nintendo. If I had just a little more motivation in my I’d be over there right now between his knees.

Haven’t had motivation for much lately. My cousin’s girlfriend invited me for some wine and whine yesterday but I ended up just taking a long hot shower and knocking out. I was also supposed to be partying but I just didn’t feel like dealing with anyone.

So I took my buddy up on his offer to partake in the end of his night with him when I woke up early this morning. His “night” ended at noon.