My mondays feel like most people's Sunday mornings. It's not unemployment, fully, because I am getting an income from my writing job (that is amazing to say) and Met tickets...but I gotta say, my Mondays are awesome, in the morning especially.
I usually journal, or do some writing and throw on Amos Lee, Miles Davis, Jack Johnson or whatever sets that mellow Sunday morning mood...err, Monday morning mood. I keep the TV off pretty much all day and just chill. It's like writing therapy, but this morning, it's hard.
Thank God I bought some cigars on our Indian Reservation run, because along with the writing therapy, and the Miles Davis therapy, I need some smoking therapy. Maybe it's a form of meditation, because smoking a stogey definitely regulates your breathing, but whatever it is, it is helping this morning.
I'm reading "Unstuck" by Dr. James Gordon, and it's been really awesome. It's a holistic approach to getting through this shit, and I like it, because the meds seem to, if anything, have as much of an adverse affect on me as they do a positive one. Take for instance my Sunday...Took the Seroquel at 11:30, laid in bed to read and write a little, fell asleep by 12:45...yeah, rolled out of the rack at 3:15 PM. I slept for close to 14 hours Saturday to Sunday.
While some people think this is amazing, it's a hindrance to living. I could have done a million things in the time I was laid out. Granted sometimes my dreams are amazing, like when Tin and I had some beers with Robbie Keane in a London Pub, or when I was a character on an episode of "The Hills" (these are seriously dreams I have had on the Seroquel). But is there anyone past the age of 22 that thinks it's cool to wake up at 3:15 in the afternoon on a Sunday? (That's right Dr. Harrington, I started a sentence with but!! BOOM!!).
By the way, on "The Hills" dream I was macking Lo hard, but in real life I'm an Audrina guy...it doesn't make me gay to know this, it makes you gay for not knowing it.
Anyhow, last night may be a last straw for the Seroquel. We halved my dose without doctor's permission, and it didn't work. I stayed up for three hours after taking it (normally my shelf life on a full does is 40 minutes, tops), and my dreams were horrendus. I debate whether I should even write them down or not.
In one way, shape or form, they were all centered on the suicidal thoughts I had that lead me to BryLin. Flashback to the book I am reading, and the whole chapter before bed was about managing suicidal and "dark" thoughts. Yeah, not a good idea post-Seroquel, pre-bedtime. In my dreams I wanted to end it all. I must have been in the dream stage of sleep for a while too, because I vividly remember my mother laying in bed while I yelled to her that I was going to kill myself in front of her. Yeah...this is why I debated writing these down, but I think it's good, cathartic, to get it out.
I had visions of my life in Michigan and how Dad and Joyce couldn't stop me from running out of the house in search for somewhere they sell guns. The last two days on Seroquel have been a whore, but you can't see anyone who can recommend a lower-dose. Psychiatrists, if they are taking new patients, have 2 to 3 month waiting lists for appointments, and my primary is a bag of strawberry douche.
I wake up scared shitless. Is my life in Michigan going to be more of the depressed, lonely, sameness that I have here, that has led me to the call to get out of Buffalo? I wake up feeling like the suicidal dream me is the real me, and for a while it stings.
Tonight I shall take the Seroquel and just watch YouTube videos of Jennifer Love Hewitt before bed I think. If I have 14 hours of Jennifer Love Hewitt dreams, then maybe this Seroquel isn't such a bad thing.
I feel bad leaving this without a video or photo, so here is the man you need to know going into the Olympic tournament...Mr. Jozy Altidore, 18 years old, striker, USA and Villareal:
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