I've also realised that I'm on nine separate medications. They are as follows:
1. Desyrel
2. Nature-throid
3. Zoloft
4. Zyprexa
5. 5-MTHF
6. L-Carnitine
7. Iron
8. Daily vitamin
9. Melatonin drops
I mean juses crust, that's a lot of foreign ingredients to put into my body. Not like I really care what I do to my body; after all I was an actual alcoholic from 2010 through the first half of 2012. But all the same it just feels wrong to be injecting that much shit into me. Speaking of injecting, I forgot I also have to inject myself with B12 shots three times a week. Thankfully needles have never bothered me so it's pretty simple: stick it right into the muscle tissue of each thigh (alternating so I don't form track marks).
I find that I don't, in fact, feel like writing anything right now. That, in turn, makes me mad enough that I'm ACTUALLY GOING TO WRITE SHIT DOWN. I started writing this post a week ago, so now I'm on a different train of thought than when I started. I suppose I can ramble sometimes; that tends to happen when I've got one particular song running on repeat (Sabaton - We Burn) on Spotify. But don't worry, I don't actually use Spotify to listen to new music, only to play local files. I will have none of their petty advertisement inside my ears. PLUNDERED AND RAPED.
I have a friend's bachelor party coming up in May or June and it will cost ~200 smacks to attend. I don't even have enough money to buy more alcohol, so I'm stressing the fuck out about not being able to attend. His actual wedding is a destination affair so I know I won't be able to go, so I feel especially dirty if I can't go to his bachelor party too. On the other side of the coin, I don't mind all that much. We used to be best mates, but then we went to separate universities and our friendship fell apart. We still get along and hang out occasionally, but it's nowhere near the same level. Plus I have a natural knack for not keeping tabs on friends. I suppose it's because I'm wrapped up in my own tribulations so deeply that nothing can touch me. I feel that if I keep myself as tightly cocooned as possible, nothing can penetrate my defences.
I erected said defences after I Splitsville with my last ladyfriend. I was in so much pain that I put up barricades around my emotional centres so thick that nothing could weasel its way through. I effectively stopped giving a fuck about anything. That works great unless it means being a good friend, which I know I am not. And that's kind of shocking given that I'm a way better listener than talker. I'd much rather hear about your problems than talk about my own. I'm that guy. But not the hopelessly beta, endlessly friendzoned type either. I just like fixing other people's problems and not my own. If only my problems could be fixed. It's been almost an entire month since my last post and I've barely worked on my second novel at all. I just can't get focused enough through the haze of pain -both mental and physical. It's so difficult to explain what I mean by pain. Unless you've actually experienced something of this magnitude, you have no goddamn idea. I've got an unhealing cystectomy that I've had two operations on and still hasn't healed since October 2010. I've had four rods and a titanium cage inserted into my spine. I've got migraines every day. And that's just the physical stuff. It doesn't even touch on the Shadow Man or my generalised psychosis. Or my extreme paranoia and/or social anxiety. In other news I feel much better about going out of the house without a hat.
OH YEAH I FORGOT, I'M ALSO ON VISTARIL.
So make that ten pills I take routinely. Although actually I take the vistaril only as-needed, but it seems that I need it every time I go out.
ACTUALLY, I went to a party last saturday with a bunch of grownups (read: over 30) and didn't sweat at all. I did wear a hat though, as a pre-emptive strike against panic attacks, but I didn't sweat at all and would have been just fine without a hat. I had two gluten-free beers and a margarita in the space of about four hours, so it wasn't the alcohol preventing me from panicking. I did it all by myself. But even more impressive was the fact that I was the youngest person there by almost ten years and I held my own in conversation. I had only met one of the women there before, besides my brother and his woman, so they were strangers. I was kind of quiet in the beginning while I felt out what type of atmosphere was going on -not to mention the fact that the hostess' daughter wasn't in bed yet. Oh yeah I forgot to mention how Grown Up this party was. There was a fucking child there until she wore herself out so much that she fell asleep playing a game.
It was supposed to be a coming home party for my brother; he was working on a cruise ship for the last six months and just got home at the beginning of the month. There was sushi and I had some even though sushi in general I find revolting. There was also veggie fries, crackers, and delicious chicken that Erin made. It was kind of warm but it still tasted like sex. Oh and Hawaiian bread with dip. I've never dipped Hawaiian bread in anything before, but it's shockingly delicious.
But hey, fuck it. At least I can meet new people and not be an awkward sweaty fuck. That's a huge improvement over my past self over the last two or three years. Those emotional barricades I erected made it so even friendliness was too much to handle without overloading my systems. Jesus Fuck, this metal music is so good. I'm hopelessly addicted. I've listened to Sabaton and Amon Amarth over 200 times each in the last week, and Finntroll 178 times. I've listened to a lot of fucking music recently. It's just so addicting and I can't help myself. It's odd that I find music sung my males so attractive, but there it is. I usually, as a rule, don't like male singers. They just don't sound good to me. But with this metal binge I'm on, I don't even notice. It's a healthy reversal I think.
I'll get back to my previous point in another post. I bet it won't be a whole month before I post again.
I bet.
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