My theory

You wreck me baby, yeah you break me in two.

Just a line in a song. Except in the song he's referring to another person. In my case, I'm referring to my own brain. I'm going to tell you briefly how my day went then tell you about my theory. One almost seems like intangible proof of the other although I came up with this theory a while ago. It is not lighthearted; be warned.

I got in an argument today that had me grab my purse, phone, hop in my car and get the fuck out. And I did. And then I realized I had nowhere to go. That is kind of how I play my life, you know? I connect only on the surface but the core is never anchored. I thought about finding a place by the lake and parking my ass there for a couple hours but I couldn't. I had to move; to actively separate myself. It's what I do best. Next thing you know I was on my way to Pittsburgh. First time in a long time. Record high gas prices, already 3:30 in the afternoon and I'm on an almost 6 hour round trip. By the time I started to calm down from the argument, I got to the city and my chest was getting tight. I went up to the Overlook and surveyed the city. Probably should have flung myself off but took a Klonopin instead. I left after five minutes and $70 in gas. I think I went there knowing that it would be bittersweet. It would distract me from the current issue by giving me something else to deal with. It's a bit sick, but it's as if I can't feel better, I want to feel worse...

So about my theory. I though about this a month or two ago and the more I think of it, the more I subscribe to the idea. What 'hell' is, is something that happens in your head. So what if there is some sort of transition that occurs in your brain, your thought processes, your very perception, that makes you suffer. I'm not talking about mental illness, but if you know the true definition of schizophrenia, it might be similar to that; having the logic at times to understand and process, then giving over to fear, threatening perceptions, warped senses and threatening concepts that overtake you. What if THAT is hell? In that case, every person would submit to their own while trying to make sense of it all. This would be a torturous existence indeed if there was nothing you could do. If it skewed every bit of information that you took in so you never knew what was real or what was the haze of your own person hell settling upon you. It makes me think of a fever settling upon you.

Most cultures have their version and vision of hell, and while they may vary, there are some constants, one being that it is a place where you go, either body or spirit. I think I may be challenging that. If hell has such ferocity, why would there be restrictions? Hell would find you.

Perhaps this is why I literally feel torn and always in some sort of battle of the ages in several facets of my life. It is a suffering that is meant for me now. I can't explain why it happens and logically, I would like to consider myself above simply being dramatic. Granted, I can be dramatic but that is usually paired with humor. Or anger. But think of the most intense feelings you've ever had. Witnessing something horrid? Death of someone close to you? Being the victim of a violent crime? Guilt over not saving someone? That is the level that I struggle with more days than not. Even when I'm not in any bipolar phase. Like now. So how is it that one person can be allowed to carry the burden of that level of intensity over routine things and not have a way to control it or to rise above?

As I mentioned, everyone has different beliefs; half the time I don't even know what mine are. But I'd say one thing that we can all agree on is that we're alive, on whatever plane you choose to opt for. I don't think hell wants to wait for us anymore. It's found a way to trickle in and wreak havoc. This is not to say that I think I, or anyone else, is going to hell - this isn't a precursor. This might be as far as it goes. Hell isn't a place, it is a transformation that occurs in your brain. How peculiar that we're all walking around, each possibly in our own living hell.

And no, I'm not drinking.

I know why octopi, but really, why octopi? Gross.

Nope, not dead, just sick. And busy. That is a really lousy combination. At the moment I'm watching a game and wishing that the announcers didn't scream everything. I could do without that.

So, I've had this upper respiratory thing and pre/post URI I've been being worked to death on the job. We just found out that the past several months during this computer system switch were made about 18 times harder than it had to be because they sent us 'the wrong people'. I hate them. I want to do very bad things to them. So we've been fighting a losing uphill battle. Finally there's a glimmer of hope but we all feel angry, used, made fools of... just like our time and efforts were useless, because basically they were.

I think I am taking this personally because I want to have a solid grip on things. When I don't, I take it as a shortcoming on my part. I know this is not my fault but it is habit for me to feel that way so it is hard to override the logic. Very draining. And it has made me think.

Of course I'm questioning where I am (literally, as in my current address) and my job, and there's some health stuff in there. Want to know the funny part? I can't think about it long enough to really come to a conclusion; it's as if I keep forgetting to think about it. Perhaps my meds are working too well and although it is great to be calm for once and just experience regular emotions, I don't function on just regular emotions. I don't know how. Years of bipolarity took care of that. I'm going to back off on my meds slightly just to get my brain going, not enough to bring on a phase of any sort. The only reason I know how to do this is because every now and then I forget a dose or two - I know how far I can take it safely. See, I'm entering the uber-apathy zone and I recall that my last bout with that (taking the last job in Pittsburgh or going back to my former job here in Ohio) was a dangerous place to perch. But I'm learning, I see the signs. If I could only see the answers.

Working overtime, being sick, and watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs has kept me from posting, blog hopping, etc but I'm going to try to fit a little in. I miss seeing what everyone is up to.

Maybe next time I'll tell you about my new theory.

Here's to me, Mrs. Robinson...

For the past few weeks I've been eyeing up these two guys at work. Not that I'd do anything about it (they are something like 24 ever-so-ancient years of age) but I've been kind of intrigued. The one, I had insta-crush on, like, three years ago when he was a mere kid! Ok, it's really not that bad, but it's bad enough. Every time we so much as talk that stupid Mrs. Robinson song goes into heavy rotation in my head. Which was before my time, I'd like to add. Truth be told, I find the one guy interesting and he's really smart, which intrigues me. Anyway, nothing would come of this, I just enjoy it when we talk. For some reason I feel uncomfortable because I know I think he's adorable and then the song gets into my head, and... there you have it.

I'd like to blame this on something, so I'll just blame it on these guys... they're tough hockey players so they can handle it.

The Easter Conference Playoffs just started tonight for the Stanley Cup Finals. Best of seven and my boys won the first game! Go Penguins! Anyway, I'm blaming this all on these lovely 20 and 21 year old (respectively) boys. BOYS! WTF?! I'm telling you, this 'no, I swear I'm old enough to shave' thing is odd. Hell, the one can't even get a drink! ;)

Sidney Crosby

Evgeni Malkin

Ok. Now I feel better. I don't believe it, but I feel better.

Here's to me, Mrs. Robinson....

Do you really need a timer if your brain is going to blow like an egg in a microwave?

There will always be things that people try to forget about. I'm not referring to the really bad ones, just things. Normal, mundane in origin perhaps, yet the kind that make you want to pull up roots, shrivel and head on across the land like tumbleweed: the ones you just want to be away from. To ignore.

And there are those things that you can't. I find it shameful that I need to dole out my thoughts like I'm handing change to a line of paupers simply in order to keep them from overwhelming me. I hate it and I detest feeling so weak over something that is not of much consequence in the scheme of things. Yet apparently it is in my scheme. Somewhere it is huge.

I was to be making certain decisions now but I've conveniently 'forgotten' about the whole plan. Recently reminded, I'm weighing panic against purposeful inaction. Fact is, it can't be both ways. I can't tackle what causes me an utter shift in the ability to think and feel like a regular person. My regular. Which isn't all that regular.

Some would refer to me as a free spirit in the way that I do what captures my fancy at the moment. Most don't realize that that is the only safe way I can exist. Of course, there is a downside and the pitfalls of just such an existence catch up. I need an answer where there isn't one to be had. And this time, I can't artfully manufacture one - it doesn't work for this.

I'm okay now. Mostly out of the mixed episode anyway. What I'm concerned about here is my reaction to something that is basically hardwired in my brain. See, when I panic, my goal is not to get away from the situation, but to get away from me, because I'm the one stuck in it and will take it with me. But if the idea of trying to peel myself out of my skin to get away seems plausible, well, overwhelmed brains will try to accomodate. That is what I fear. Pretty much general stupidity brought on by overwhelming panic. It's almost like running from or reacting to a visual hallucination.

This is nothing new and I've talked about it before. I'll talk about it again soon but it's not so much the topic, as it is fairly generic, but it is how I respond to it. And the concept that I do not see how I will ever rid myself of it. The neural pathways were repeatedly burned to make this thought process and I may very well be a slave to it. Which in that case, there is no hiding.

*boom*