Harm Reduction and Happy Mazes

In spite of going to bed on time, I was so tired in the morning I nearly missed my clock in time. I was worried the work was going to die, but I kept busy until literally the last second. I do still wish I was salary, but I can easily see that going wrong in either direction. I'd either let my workaholism take over, or just blow off a lot of work.

I don't want to post too much about work. But there was that whole issue where the G I'd taken didn't kick in until I was already at Staff Attorney Laura's place. I OD'd, ambulance, etc. We've never talked about it. I feel like this is quintessential Step 9: Apologies, but I'm not walking those. I'll probably just vomit it all out to her at some point. There's some appointment she needed to be involved in, and she is involved...curtly. But I also saw the panel attorney had already been marked as Offered, even before I got there. I dunno if it's my paranoia or what, but I worried they're suddenly trying to audit our - or specifically my - productivity.

After work, I started smoking and browsed other vape pen reviews, still looking for something strong enough to numb me/send me into orbit/whatever. I was considering buying more, but then checked and my Kratom arrived. Wary of myself, I took one tab. But didn't feel anything, so I took another. Then a THC pill. Then poured a drink. Somewhere between the three, I got something of a buzz, but I'm clearly still looking for a replacement drug.

Tim called in the afternoon. There's something happening with the insurance company they use, and they're not insuring wooden boats anymore. Jae was talking about just letting their boat burn down, and Tim's going to be in big trouble in December if he can't get things figured out. This feels like just one symptom of whatever cosmic alignment is apparently in effect. What with so many of my issues coming to bear just now, the tribal/partisan forces that have been bubbling up forever, but seem to be boiling over now....

He asked to come over, and that finally gave me the push to do the rest of the housework I'd been meaning to get done. Vacuumed, swept, litter box, dishes, trash, bathroom...I was going to clean my room, but I couldn't get over the hump of upsetting Lady Miss Friday. I know. In the end, Tim was shocked enough he thought I hired a maid. On the plus side, I had a moment with some stuffing paper. I always save things for my mice. Cardboard, paper towel rolls, etc., but I never get it there. It just sits and clutters everything while I dream of what I should have done. It's sort of a metaphor for my whole life, really. Dream big, crash land. This time, though, I had the brilliant idea to put the paper on top of their maze, like a semi-lid. They *loved* it. To the point I'm going to try to talk to businesses or something so I can get a new batch of paper every week or two. I just watched them forever, and it was one of the drugs I'm looking for. The thought that 1) they're not going to be eaten by a snake, and 2) that I'm finally well enough mentally to take care of them. There was a post on Pet Rats about themes for your rat names. I'm kind of masquerading there, since I only have mice. But I'm really good at theme names. Folks loved mine, then I gave a bunch of suggestions for a gent who'd just adopted 4 rats, and he was in love. Another member subtly puts "rat" into all of her kids names. Pie-rat, Sec-rat, etc. Brilliant.

On one of Ryan's posts, someone mentioned struggling despite their bipolar meds. I Cared, he Friended me, and we chatted for a bit. It felt weird being open with a stranger. And especially awkward when I "confessed" that I'm not sober. I was expecting vitriol and a block, but instead he responded with harm reduction. As long as you're not using The One, it's progress. He segued to sex eventually, making some comments about high standards for bottoms. And after I told him I'd done porn, he told me he was already a fan.


Tim was very late... To the point I thought he'd fallen asleep or something, but he took the pasta I'd made and made a spicy peanut stir fry. It got me to eat dinner, anyway. I sent the leftovers back with him, though. It's spicy, he's still drowning financially, and I'm a fucking hobo and DGAF what vegan thing I eat. We talked some about both his situation and mine. Since I've been talking to Julian more, it's so easy to forget *all* the bad times. And I do occasionally remember that 1) Julian is looking for a parent/partner, and 2) his feelings for me are somewhere between genuine, echoes, and convenience.

I stayed up for a bit after, still trying to think of what drug I can try next, and listening to Heat of the Summer, Beat Connection (Odesza remix), and Take My Time, by Skinshape.

Warren sent me a post offering support to folks like me, who only live because suicide would hurt so many others. I had no idea it was so common, but it was late enough that just
thinking about started me sinking. It was nearly 3, so I finally crashed.