Mary Jane

These past several weeks have been bad, really bad.  Not in the sense of being embroiled with visions and memories of the accident or long crying jags for missing my husband, not that that doesn't happen from time to time still, but something has it's grips on me. I don't know what it is.  I've been calling it anxiety but I don't know if it is.  Someone on WWS mentioned depression but I don't know if it is. It's bad though, really bad.

If I'm being honest there has been a slight touch of this in me for about a year, a slight touch.  Now, huh, now I am ALL this new thing with a slight touch of me quivering in the darkest corner of my soul hoping the evil monster doesn't realize I'm still there hiding, trying to gain strength to fight. Praying I can conquer this unwanted entity and reign queen of my mind once again.

It started small, but seemed big at the time.

The phone would ring and immediately I would tense and think "Oh my God, someone wants something from me, I've got nothing left," and with fear in my eyes I would answer the damn phone. Wait! What? Seriously...what is that all about?  It's the phone dumb ass, just answer it, it even tells you who is calling...no surprises there!

See, small but big.Then it morphed into something else.

About six months ago I noticed I would look at my To Do list...call so and so, go to such and such store, make such and such appointment etc., easy right?!  WRONG!  I would immediately tense up, and my mind would race like wildfire.  Here we go...Okay Kristen, let's start with item one shall we?  Call so and so. Um, yeah, I can't. Why? Well, I'm really not sure, I just can't. Sure you can...just pick up the phone and dial. Oh, is that all?  Just pick up the phone and dial?  If it was that simple would I be having this ridiculous conversation with myself? Don't you think I know JUST PICK UP THE PHONE AND DIAL?  I know how to do this...I just CAN'T. 

For an hour this would go on, me mentally kicking and screaming and begging for the ease of it. The ease that I so did/do not feel. An hour of beating myself up, holding my head in my hands, rocking back and forth crying "why can't I do this".  And then I would...I would pick up the phone and dial, and wait and listen.  "Hello?" "Hi Mom...how are you?" 

I did it...cross item one off my list.  What's next? Go to such and such store...okay, let's do this. Grab phone, purse, keys and let's go.  Easy Peasy!  Start the car, open sunroof, turn on tunes...sing and bop to the music.  Life is good!  Um...hold up.  I can't go in there.  What?  Why? Don't know, by mind and body is screaming I can't go inside there.  Huh...I wonder why?  Is there a madman inside do you think?  No, of course not...I'm the damn madman you idiot.  Clearly.  I just spent an hour fighting with my brain and my arm to pick up the damn phone and call my mother.  Madness?  Yup, I think so.  Now I'm sitting in front of the store where I buy food for my daughter and I.  And I can't go in.  Madness?  Oh shit yeah.  I am so fucked it's not even funny.

What in God's name is happening to me? Seriously? Have I not been through enough? Is God just up there thinking "Oh there she is, looks as though she can take just a little bit more...blam...now she's a semi functioning idiot." Well thank you very much! 

NOT!!!!

Some days I just pace in circles fighting an internal battle with my brain.  That tiny little me hiding in the corner is waging a war with the evil that is holding me hostage to myself.  All I want is to be normal but this thing won't allow that.  It wants all of my soul and is pissed off that there is still the tiniest piece in MY control.  I'm not sure I can win this but I will not give up, I'm still trying.

Yesterday was bad.  I have a 'gathering' with friends to attend today and I offered to bring a salad and roasted potatoes. Do I have that in the house?  Nope. Do I need to go to the market? Yup.  Craap! For an hour and a half I fought and cried and paced and begged for help.  I pleaded with David, Evelyn, my Grandmother...anyone up there who gives a crap about me to please help me get over this nonsense, to please help me get out of this house.  I had made it in to my room to change out of 'hang around the house' clothes and looked in the mirror. Oh God, I look HORRIBLE!  Just change and go to the store Kristen...this isn't a beauty contest. I can't! What should I put on? OH. MY. GOD. You have freaking got to be kidding me. Just grab those shorts there and a baseball cap and run to the damn store. Um...I can't. Holy shit!  Grab my head crying, PLEASE HELP ME!!! I started to leave my room, clearly unable to change right now. Wait? What? Did I just hear the word pot? Oh my God.  Yes! Why have I not thought of this until now.  Why have I been fighting this horrible demon for all this time and not even considered it. Thank you David!

Okay, here goes.  Where is that stash I confiscated from my child 4 years ago? Is it still even good? Should I really do this? What if the house smells? What if I smell? Oh no...paranoia is creeping in and I haven't even found the bag yet. Seriously, I am such a mess, will this even help? I've heard there are beneficial aspects to it...medically speaking. But in this house it is a big no no. I'm all about teaching my child the dangers of it and the damage it will cause her brain.  Yadda yadda yadda. Should I really do this?  AH HA!!! Found it! Okay, good, let's see if this really can help.

Where should I smoke it?  Can't do it in my room it will stink and my kid will know. In the kitchen?  Pft...no. Bathroom! No, neighbors might smell it. They aren't even home stupid, you've got the house to yourself so to speak.  Ok, I will start in the kitchen, take it out of the bag and see what all I've got. Open one zip lock...take out bag, open that zip lock, take out another bag...open third (or 4th, I lost count) zip lock, take out THE bag. Rolling papers, lighter, smokeless pipe, roach clip, film canister with pot in it, and a half smoked joint.  WOW Look at all this stuff I laugh, paranoia floating all around me.  I don't care, I'm doing this! But where? Bathroom it is. Out the window...no neighbors might see me. Near the window, I'll do it near the window in the bathroom so the smoke can go outside.  I attach the roach clip to the half smoked joint, grab the lighter and head to the bathroom, look outside to see if anyone is around.  Nope, I'm good.  Click (that's the lighter) and suck, did it light? Don't think so, oh yeah, the edge of the paper lit...suck some more. Did I get anything. Doesn't taste like it.  Watch in the mirror dummy!  Ok, light it again and suck, just a small suck, got it! Now I am coughing all over the place and the room STINKS.  Shit.  Put it out, spray Glade Balsam Fir room spray.  Awesome!  Now it smells like burning pine needles in here.  Oh yeah, my kid will know instantly.  I'm screwed.  And all for nothing, I didn't even really get a hit. Will it still smell at 2am when she gets home?  I sure hope not. Run to the kitchen to wrap, wrap, wrap, and wrap it all up again to hide it once more. I laugh, what a paranoid fool I am.  HA

Wait!  Heeeey, guess what?  My mind is clear, it worked. Holy shit, it worked.  Unbelievable.  I hardly even got a hit, so now I know...the smallest possible amount helped tremendously.  I figure this all out as I'm changing.  Yup, changing...and I didn't even realize I was doing it.  HA!  Damn this stuff is great!  Off to the store I go, got what I needed, load the car and look up.  Oh, I've needed to go there since May.  Lock the car and head over.  March myself through the door. 

Wow, just...wow! 

Relief.



PS...Don't judge me! ;-)