Saturday, October 8, 2005

The Monster Under The Bed

The monster crawled out from under my bed, and I’m not too fucking happy about it. You should note it is going to be one of those blogs, and it is going to be long, and it is going to make some people nod, others cry, and those of you who aren’t up for it tonight, can just go elsewhere until the happy Jeremy is back. I had a wonderful day. I woke up happy. I commented on blogs all day, wrote one, and had numerous communications that made me smile, but as always, I can never escape what I am though, and it pisses me the fuck off. My last skeleton, I have eluded to, and thrown about in my comments, and as many other astute observers have pointed out to me, is the greatest source of shame I have yet to dissolve from within me. It is as vicious as any of my ism’s and it is the most terrifying thing I know, as it lives inside me, and it is so fucking unfair. It sucks that I have it, and it sucks that I watch my poor little boy, and know that I gave it to him, as I passed on my fucking shit ass DNA to him. I hate! I hate everything, and when I say that it isn’t just a passing casual hate, it really is a monster, and it is just scary. I know what to do, I have spent the last 13 years of my life dealing with this shit, and it is what has led me to be so God damn analytical about everything. See if you relate to this, most won’t because of the extreme nature, but some will as the process unfolds.

I get into my car, and I know I am already running late, the rain is absolutely driving, {for those of you who love rain, I don’t ... sorry} and I hop into that fucking car my ex-fucking wife bought, and stuck me with the fucking payments. The windshield wipers have 3 speeds … too slow to let you see … too fast to do anything but make that grinding fucking sound … and so fast that they fly off. Fords sucks a fucking dink by the way. Problem number one presented, and now I am off on the highway to see Polly, which is an hour and a half drive on a good day. Problem number two begins, as the fogged windows are starting to get impossible to deal with, yet opening them even a crack will throw raindrops into my eyes, the defroster is starting to make the car too warm, and I am starting to have problems breathing. Colder air will not get rid of the fog, so I fucking deal. My little fucked up Ford roller skate is no match for all of the Excursions that want to drive the same speed as me on both sides, flirting back and forth into my lane, while the fucking asshole in front of me wants to play with his brakes menacingly. I am starting to feel my heart race a little bit, as I am starting to get afraid of being “trapped”, and worse than that, at the mercy of others for my own personal safety. None of these people are doing anything to TRY to piss me off, they are just stupid, and probably go through life so ridiculously self-absorbed that they have no clue how they affect anyone. I actually could say in a way I am jealous of these people, were I sane, but maybe that is the point.

The drive is taking longer than usual, and I am being driven toward large puddles that are making my car dart to one side or another, my heart starts racing a little more, and now I notice that there is a hand coming out from under the bed. My brain is starting to split in two, and it is arguing, as I have the one side that sees a huge wall of white a mile away, and is bracing for the impact. The other half is trying to analyze, and talk me out of this. I am trying to think up blog entries, songs, trying to remember that people love me, and I love other people {yes I am fucking crying ok} I am getting scared, I can’t do anything because of the people around me. I start feeling like they are taking away any of my control. Even when I am in a clearing, and I am driving alone, there is a pack of cars behind me. Cars always travel in these clumps, or packs, like fucking jackals, I think they just have no will, so the pack mentality of the fucking highway dominates my existence now. The pack in front of me I dare not approach, I see all of that open road ahead, of that fucking pack, and I so desperately want to be there, but it is happening, as the pack behind me is closing in, I am terrified, I know what is happening, as my mind just goes WHITE! BLINDING PAINFUL WHITE FLASH! My head feels like my brain grew 3 sizes too big, and I am totally blind, and this is all a matter of 3 seconds but it is the most terrifying experience in the world. Feels like it will never end, but it is only a few seconds realistically. Fuck Freddy Crugar, fuck Jason, fuck everything, this is pure blind terror, and I own it, as I always fucking do, and I fucking hate it.

At this point I have had a full blown, mind numbing panic attack, but the monsters head has only appeared, the rest of the body is still trying to climb out because I am so much sicker than that. As I am somewhat sane now I will use this analogy first of all. I love the show The Sopranos but I always took exception to fat Tony, and his falling down, while hitting head, panic attacks. Another point where I can be jealous of someone else being just kinda sick. I have been told by many people that that is all that happens to them, and I realize that that is traumatic enough, but you are now reading the writings of a man with tears in his eyes talking about his panic attacks that are almost legendary.

Before I was diagnosed with Severe Panic Disorder, most of my blind rages, were simply attributed to my alcoholism, and it was an "enough said" issue, when I got sober. I became passive, in an effort to try to be a “good” person, and in the end it became apparent that something was wrong, when a gang {yes a fucking gang, with a name out of the fucking Big Book for Gods sake ... fucking cock suckers, I still have to fucking control myself whenever I am around these fucking shit eating fucking asswipes, and sober or not I will always wish them fucking dead, just so you all know what you are dealing with here ... and fuck you if you don't like it} of sober bikers, who were just as fucking sick as when they drank treated me like their “bitch” as my reputation as a violent drunk was pretty well known. Their own mistreated alcoholism led them to harass me every time I went to meetings around my two year anniversary, and that one day that I went blind, I knew exactly what had happened, but I was totally incapable of stopping myself. One of them actually punched me, just for his girlfriend talking to me {fucking cunt always did that just to piss him off}, and the flash of blinding whiteness, the pounding of whatever it is in my head that is trying to escape, and the next problem is, I don’t pass out. Everything becomes terrifying, I have no mind so to speak, I am just a pile of instinct like a rat stuck in a corner, and the world is coming to an end. I am not in any control of myself, but the part of my mind that is holding all of that terror, is NOT going to go into the fetal position and wish it were dead, it is going to breath fire, and wish everyone else was. Six, sick as shit, should have still been drinking as far as I am concerned {two died from their untreated alcoholism, later in my life} bikers were laying around with broken bones, one seriously wounded, since I blindly started stabbing him with a broken piece of table, that I had broken up with him to begin with, and I was being dragged out of the only sober club in the area screaming by the police. I was banned for life from the place that had 80% of the local meetings. {and don't start telling me it's unfair, or that I deserved it ... I know I deserved it} Every time I relive this shit I so fucking hate me, but it is the past I am not supposed to shut the door on, and I often can’t especially at times like this. Those fucking cocksuckers didn’t have the balls to go to court on all the shit, because as I said before, kinda sober or not, they were pieces of shit, and a court room was no place they wanted to be. I was locked away nice and tight in a mental hospital within a year, so the world was a safer place for all, and a few years later all but one of those fucking assholes ended up being "taken care of" by another gang {the really famous one} in Laconia. Good fuck em! I still live with my hopeless inability to get over that shit if you haven't noticed. Back to after the actual panic attack ...

I am now a driving menace, I am looking at everything, terrified, narrow-minded, and almost ghoulish. I have some fucking asshole cop behind me, as all I want to do is get to where I am supposed to be meeting Polly, and as most fucking asshole cops do, this one is tailing a little to the side, to make sure his fucking overly bright light is shining in my fucking rear view, while tailgating me, of course. I’m sure everyone out there is horrified of being pulled over, ticket, time wasted etc etc. Try having half of your brain saying, I think we should just fucking kill this one, because he fucking deserves it, teach that bastard a lesson, and the other half desperately trying to talk the other half out of it. I am NOT schizophrenic, but trust me I tried at one time to get the doctor to label me as such, so I could go away forever, where I fucking belong. I am crying, I am scared, I am just a nervous fucking wreck, and the roads are still filled with people I want to die. I don’t actually want to do it mind you, but I just want everyone dead. Almost all of the monster has crawled out now.

I hate, I am crying, and I am now very late for where I was supposed to meet Polly, with another problem, which is simply what caused all of my panic attacks, extreme claustrophobia, not the tight spaces type, the invading space type. It has been the source of all of my issues, terror, and claustrophobia, create chaos, in my head. I can’t be touched, looked at, or in any way surrounded by people. It makes me worse, and I am still very scared about that. I have to get there though, because I have a carton of cigarettes for her, now is that sick or what? I am also very self abusive during these periods, and I was very much so expecting her to be upset with me, as I needed to just get home and be alone. I did my best to send her a text message to meet me outside, and gave her the carton, and told her I had a panic attack, I needed to go home, and I would talk to her about it later, because another great thing about panic disorder is the intense hatred I feel when people make me explain myself, and I haven’t gotten it out of my system, the whole everyone is going to hate me problem. I stood in the parking lot scared, terrified, I so desperately needed to piss, which made things worse, and I was getting pissed off that she had a car alarm, so I couldn’t just throw the carton in there. She came out, she understood, no questions, just a rub on my back, that I creepily put up with {I really have BAD space issues when I am like this}, and I was on my way home.

I took the long way home, down Route 1 instead of 95. When I got up the gumption to stop and get a coffee, the guy at the Dunkin Donuts was one of those whicked ridiculously gay men, that the world always needs, {bigots reading this … fuck off and die … please} who put on a hillarious manic show for me, as he did everything SO HAPPY, that it actually started cheering me up a little. I actually thank that nameless faceless man at the Dunkin Donuts, as the rest of the way home I was able to start focusing on perhaps finally tattling on myself about the panic shit. The fact is I thank GOD that I have NEVER had one of these fits with the kids around, and only one of my ex-wives have ever had to deal with it, and fuck her anyway, she caused it, and it was the pinnacle moment that got me to walk out the door on her forever. I met my first “Spirit Guide” during that one. A skunk will calm down any temper after all. I also thank God that today, I am able to kick the monster back under the bed before he completely gets out, but I hate the whole horror, of the brain as it is happening. I hate being afraid of myself. I just hate sometimes, and I truly do work on it. I just take my pills, pray that the other half of the brain still tries to calm the other half down, and if that is God too, then thank you God. I actually feel better now ;8o)

No Question ... I am going to go lay down in bed alone, and watch my Enterprise DVD's that Lizzie {My bestest friend in the whole wide world} bought me ... I hope you all know that I love you, and for the rest of tonight I shall just miss me ... tommorrow is a new day, and I always grow, even when I feel I shrink ...