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Semi-Update
May. 13th, 2020 08:45 pmWoke up around 2, but other than being awake, felt fine. Emailed Amy at work and got a webcam. I'd been going to just buy my own, but it would've been cheap and trashy and... Why spend my money for work?
My dabtab pen finally shipped, but I couldn't get any info except that it was shipping from Oregon. Ethan checked in on me, and I talked some about the understanding I was getting from other addicts, and what it meant to me. I took more THC pills, smoked the last of my Train Wreck, avoided drinking until later.
Tim called in the afternoon, and she agreed he could come over, even though I was exhausted. Laid down for a bit with Lady Miss Friday before he did. He brought some groceries, cooked up some of the "sausages" from my TJ's meat haul, and even figured out how to open the box wine I got from TJ's, though it turned out to be sangria. Whatever, I like sweets.
I'm not sure if it was the ghost of THC, the glass of wine or what, but pretty much every song brought me closer to tears. It helps that some of it was The Irrepressibles. Eventually, I managed to shove those feelings down below my feet until I was walking on them. I dunno. A lot of this is my bitter vitriol at even feeling these things, much less being vulnerable. Thanks, dad. But Tim has seen me cry before, as much as I hate that, and more, he's had to call over my 5150s several times, and that feels a little heavier. Scoch.
After dinner, he checked on me...even turned off the TV to focus in. When someone who's done as much as Tim asks, you don't lie or skim over shit. I told him about the issues with my brain injury...he correctly, if exasperatedly, noted that if this didn't affect my license, I wouldn't have touched it. Um...yeah? We ended up talking somewhat about my various death wishes, and I finally put to words (if stupid, clunky ones), what a weird place it was to have my doc talking about cancer at the same time I was wishing for death. I also told him the tide was rising again, and cited Sunday. He wants me to contact Jae regarding their contacts at The Center. I've managed to get help at The Center without an "in," and I straight up don't trust Jae to follow through on anything after they asked to take over my nonprofit, then ignored all messages. But it did finally convince me to keep pushing at getting help.
In some ways, I'm so much further than I was last year...in some ways, I'm still sitting there at square one. That whole...desperately, constantly wishing to not exist is a big one.
My dabtab pen finally shipped, but I couldn't get any info except that it was shipping from Oregon. Ethan checked in on me, and I talked some about the understanding I was getting from other addicts, and what it meant to me. I took more THC pills, smoked the last of my Train Wreck, avoided drinking until later.
Tim called in the afternoon, and she agreed he could come over, even though I was exhausted. Laid down for a bit with Lady Miss Friday before he did. He brought some groceries, cooked up some of the "sausages" from my TJ's meat haul, and even figured out how to open the box wine I got from TJ's, though it turned out to be sangria. Whatever, I like sweets.
I'm not sure if it was the ghost of THC, the glass of wine or what, but pretty much every song brought me closer to tears. It helps that some of it was The Irrepressibles. Eventually, I managed to shove those feelings down below my feet until I was walking on them. I dunno. A lot of this is my bitter vitriol at even feeling these things, much less being vulnerable. Thanks, dad. But Tim has seen me cry before, as much as I hate that, and more, he's had to call over my 5150s several times, and that feels a little heavier. Scoch.
After dinner, he checked on me...even turned off the TV to focus in. When someone who's done as much as Tim asks, you don't lie or skim over shit. I told him about the issues with my brain injury...he correctly, if exasperatedly, noted that if this didn't affect my license, I wouldn't have touched it. Um...yeah? We ended up talking somewhat about my various death wishes, and I finally put to words (if stupid, clunky ones), what a weird place it was to have my doc talking about cancer at the same time I was wishing for death. I also told him the tide was rising again, and cited Sunday. He wants me to contact Jae regarding their contacts at The Center. I've managed to get help at The Center without an "in," and I straight up don't trust Jae to follow through on anything after they asked to take over my nonprofit, then ignored all messages. But it did finally convince me to keep pushing at getting help.
In some ways, I'm so much further than I was last year...in some ways, I'm still sitting there at square one. That whole...desperately, constantly wishing to not exist is a big one.
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