Thursday, December 8, 2011

Meds? Or No Meds?

If you've read anything at all at this blog, you have probably surmised that I am a guy with quirks. Another way of expressing the concept of 'quirks' might be to express it as 'possible mental health issues'


Today I am taking what they humorously call a 'mental health day' -- only, it is a little more for-real than the glib usage, in today's case. I'm already feeling a little bit better for having made this decision. I got some coffee going, and I also got some music going - music from where I'm 'from' ...I won't bore ya with play lists.

I'm feeling so much better in fact, that I'm almost feeling like I should go to work. But. I'll not fall into that trap. I'll go for a full day's worth of recovery, not just a pot of coffee's worth or one album's worth....

Anyway, last night, somebody with ADHD described to me the symptoms of ADHD. I have it for sure. Self-diagnosing is a dangerous path, I know, but I'm thinking I do indeed have it. I have all those symptoms. And more. I also have some serious...feelings's hard to describe: it's a mix. I dwell on mistakes I have made. I dwell on memories of situations when people have rejected me or...'relegated' me (?) (right word?). I have depression too, but, who doesn't. I got it bad.

So the point that I intended to make is this: I'm struggling with the decision about whether I should 'see somebody' and 'find the right medicine for me.' Here are some of my worries: What if I get canned? Because I kind of suck at my job (not just pity-partying here, I really do suck at it, I couldn't configure myself out of the friggin can), ya, what if I go on some medication, and then they lay my ass off...and then I can't afford the medicine nomore...You hear all the terrible stories of people who suddenly 'go off their medicine.'

Another concern I have is this: My ex-wife went on Pristiq, right, and she completely transformed into different person before my eyes. It was startling to see see somebody you've known for 13 years...somebody you loved and who you know EVERYTHING see them just change see the former parts of them melt away and see the mechanical being that emerges and does not seem to give much of a fuck about anything except mechanical things. She said she feels better who am I to judge

Another concern or consideration is this: Maybe I ain't all that bad. Maybe I can do it on my own. I've put lots of effort and babbling in on the spiritual healing pursuits...I feel good when I read Good Stuff and watch videos of The Good Stuff and when I'm around people sharing in the Good Stuff....but the bad stuff still gets on me quick, hard and heavy. I can't spend 24 hours of all seven days with my nose in self-help books or spiritual books, I can't spend all my time watching satsangs on YouTube. I need some take-away healing. I need some take-away strength.

Earlier in the year, I started an account at Daily Strength, and I was posting and participating regularly for a while there. After reading how bad some people got it though...I thought: wow, I might not be that bad off. That doesn't necessarily help 100%, but, it gives one some perspective.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Nothing to Report

I drank lots of beer yesterday with my neighbor and this other friend of mine. We talked about all subjects and cooked up some slop and ate and watched this weird movie I have, Baraka. Their website describes the film:

Baraka is a non-verbal film, without words, actors or a plot. Instead, incredible, thought-provoking images from around the world show the beauty and chaos generated by nature and humans.

I have a few of these non verbal films out of this same strain. The first one I ever saw was Koyaanisqatsi (a Hopi Indian word meaning life out of balance). You can watch the whole thing on YouTube. It's these amazing camera shots of life, the busy nature of human life...chaos vs order type stuff.

Baraka shows a lot of spiritual and ritual type stuff. Koyaanisqatsi seemed more environmentally 'themed.' I've watched Koyaanisqatsi ten trillion times...there's nothing like it. If you ever want to see a film that's a little different, this is a good one.

Anyway, it was good to have friends around all durn day, and one of em is still passed out on the couch out there. We ended up at that dopey drum circle last night, and it was real dopey so we left. But I met a cool lady there, and we talked about the events like drum circles and so on (She's pretty high on drum circles right now...I'm kind of coming down off that high...crashin, more like). Anyway, she's into spoken word type stuff too, and I told her about the one I like to go to, and she might end up going. Cool cool. I'm not trying to hook up with's just nice to see friendly, familiar faces of people who like to do the same kind of wacky things I like to do.

I don't really have anything to report, no drama or sorrow I care to rip the bandages off of at the moment. I was just thinking: I'm lucky I have the few friends I have. There are people who know me and know my whole story, and they really root for me in this life struggle thing. I try not to burden people with my troubles too much, but these troubles do come up in conversation, you know, and there are some people, luckily, who give me good advice -which- if I was smart enough, I would heed.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

My friend wants to drag me to a dum circle tonight...I mean...a drum circle. This particular drum circle is the scene of a particular crime, though, and I'm nervous about going there. (I am curious about whether them shoes are still hangin there though, maaan.) I do and I don't want to see HER there. Her friend has been texting me, Happy Thanksgiving...How you been doing...Hey, I been texting you...You still at this number? They tell each other EVERYTHING. Talking to the friend means talking to her. Maybe this is immature, a little bit 'I'm Not Okay/You're Okay.' I should respond to messages and accept hug offers and smile at all times, I guess. Or, I could go spraypaint something...leave a wacky note...and then sit there and be aware of it -and of all things, stand there seeing...take a bouncy ball out of my pocket and bounce it...take some golf clubs and a bucket of balls to an old grave yard and just start strokin em-- the balls bouncing around between memorials all crazy, like life-size pinball -- not out of disrespect, maaan, I have kin in there too (brother, mother, dad) - it's a temporary alteration of a false sad place (They ain't there. That ain't Them), a celebration at the world's saddest kind of place, and the only way I'd ever be able to drag myself back there. I hate graveyards. When I go to them, I am an emotional wreck for weeks. (I would never hit golfballs into a graveyard, I'm just kidding. Most people see graveyards as sacred, and I'd never act up in grave yard. Out of respect to people who already have enough grief. Everybody handles grieving in their own way, and the last thing a dummy like me should do is make suggestions. The best thing I can do when advice seems to be called for is to offer no advice. I don't know. I got mixed feelings on this. The best thing to do with mixed feelings is use them as ink.) Anyway...this Lady...whose shoes, I believe, are still hanging from a powerline in front of a bar...and her friend, and all those friends from that scene...maybe this is why I am so alone...because I take this attitude with people. I've given them lots and lots of...leeway though, lots of listening, lots of too! They stole from me! Ha. Hippies. Well: this century's version of hippies anyway.