Something ... the change of season, the morphing sleep schedule (if it proves to be that and not endless insomnia), the session Friday, the session tomorrow, the fact that I still have the Tongue Plague although I've been giving it all sorts of time to go away, the fact that I had caffeine today like a total dope - probably just because I was frustrated, or the fact that I'm about to not be on certain key meds because my insurance company decided to live up to my opinion of insurance companies, and I can't afford the pills (fiscally speaking) even though I can't afford to not take them (emotionally speaking)... One of these many, many things (or something else, as yet, unknown) made today seriously uncool. An indecisive storm brew all throughout the morning; it kept bumping back into sunshine, toying pest. And when it finally broke, it stayed too quiet to really feel like a release. I almost hacked my hair off again to release some of the energy, to ease the frustration, but I wanted to do something different, something more complicated, and when I approached my mom about helping me, her response left me unsure I wanted to do it at all. I thought about spraying some temporary blue sparkle into it, just to have done something, but I can't deal with temporary right now. I need to do something, and I need it to be (not dramatic and not dangerous - and not involving caffeine, damnit) somewhat drastic. To cut my hair shorter than I ever have, to say "fuck it" and dye it blue. I have a strong desire to just cut it off in clumps without even seeing the mirror and then let someone fix it. there's no special reason for this move to be hair-related; I guess I've just used that in the past, and other forms of body-mod (which gets points for being visible and obvious) have not yet won me over fully. (Do I really want that piercing/ tattoo? is a question still ticking toward an answer.) All I know is, I want to be reckless. And it's because I'm frustrated, which means when I break through the frustration and (just a guess, based on some historic statistics) cry my eyes out, I probably won't feel it's so necessary. But I'm not opposed to doing something anyway, in the meantime - even afterward. It doesn't feel like destructive recklessness. I need something drastic, outspoken, decisive - a hint that I'm not who I was, even if I can't quite introduce you to who I am. And blah. blah, blah. today is not a writing day. it's an antique typewriter day, when punching the keys would feel good. but oy, the lack of speed would annoy me. think that's frustrating? try being agoraphboic with cabin fever. no, really, agoraphobia isn't the relative term. it's not simply a fear of going out (though that's high), it's also (right this moment) a distaste for going out. I don't want to do anything, anywhere, but I'm desperate to do something. oy, I'm glad I have an appointment tomorrow (which will go better, damnit, if I have to silence him and root around in myself until I'm raw and temporarily defenseless). and I probably can pay for those pills, at least for a little while. and my mom has a history of kicking serious ass when she's made to do so. plus, the doctor has free samples just for cases like this, right? so maybe I won't end up going completely crazy. it scares me. the cold-turkey withdrawal, not to mention the lack of a counterattack against depression, anxiety, migraine freaks me out. I'm forgetting my mom promised she wouldn't let me be off meds. (It was one of those, "I feel so loved" moments when I twist my eyebrows and laugh at my desire to thank her.) I'm forgetting helpful facts like that left and right today. I'm too busy freaking out that I can't do anything for anyone. Note to self: putting boundaries back in life, following dismissal of them during phone-call-spree, will probably result in a renewed ability to do certain simple tasks. Or at least to not curl into a fetal position every time the phone rings. Baby steps onto the bus.
~me