#took some Vyvanse. last time i took it it kept me up for 28 hours. this time i was able to force myself to sleep at a reasonable time

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I woke up at a reasonable time (8:45am) went to the coffee shop, got some work done on an important project, then called the psychiatrist office AND the bank. All in less than three hours. Who am I? When did a neurotypical ghost possess me? And can it stay forever?

[misszarves]

timeline of my spiral for anyone who wants to laugh react

july 2019: hit a wall with sleep deprivation, anemia, gut problems and probably plain burnout, started having conflicts with my boss especially around my lateness (our workday started at 5:00 AM, he refused to simply write me up or suspend me but instead wanted to “talk about it” and this became extremely intrusive and uncomfortable fast)

also july: had my first encounter with an animal in a sticky trap, outside my apartment, a bird who I was able to rescue

also july: quit that job, went back to the golf course to bartend a couple of days a week

august: moved back in with my parents as a result of my changed employment situation

late august: read that shockingly graphic article in the NYT about child porn that some of you may remember (do I need to put a trigger warning or can y’all use common sense and refrain from looking it up). sharp spike in anxiety, making it worse than it had been in six or seven years

september: picked up more hours at the golf course, was able to make some investments in myself -- a new sewing machine and some singing lessons. had my two-year cake. 

mid-october: found out I was pregnant. on a friday (K, not J, was the father -- some people do ask). made the quick decision to have an abortion but was unable to get in touch with any abortion provider until the middle of the following week (due to phone/email tag, etc), giving me enough time to start Feeling Things about the pregnancy

november: continuing to live with my parents and work full-time as a bartender, succumbed to angst and anxiety as expected -- but family, friends and coworkers with the glaring exception of my mom (who still pretends she didn’t even know I was pregnant, lol) were very supportive. for a brief period, we settled on keeping the baby, and told my dad and picked godparents. when I changed my mind again, my boyfriend was devastated. that pretty much hasn’t changed

late november: in a last-ditch attempt to fend off the crushing dread, I took a trip north to see a friend and her husband (to be clear, I would have visited them anyway lmfao). it helped a little. on the way back, I stopped to see some of my mother’s cousins, who tried to rope me into a pyramid scheme.

november 28: abortion day! my aunt took me to the clinic and then out for burgers. while we were eating, one of the cooks, who my aunt knew, fell off a ladder and onto his back.

first two weeks following the abortion: the normal feel-like-shit-no-matter-how-secure-you-were-in-your-decision period

dec 3: relapsed! 

dec 3 onwards: since the relapse went on for about three months, I can’t nail down when that “two week” period actually ended. pregnancy hormones resulted in waves of anger and teariness, but no satisfying “mourning”. I drank more heavily than I ever did before, routinely got shitfaced or even blacked out while on shift. I told people about the relapse, but the actual inebriation mostly went unnoticed.

christmas eve: after convincing J to come spend christmas with my family, got drunk again, we got in some sort of argument. I don’t remember.

christmas morning: J left as soon as possible.

the blurry period between christmas and mid-January 2020: 

more drinking at work, and a peak in the mouse and rat problem my workplace had been managing badly for several months. saw and heard three tiny, dying, bloody mice on two separate sticky traps (two different days). on a slow ~pasta night~, knocked back a couple of drinks so I could ask one of the cooks at the pasta buffet to leave his post and euthanize the second and third mouse. which he did as humanely as possible -- with a shovel. at this point I wrote a letter to my GM telling him how unacceptable it was to make his hormonal, post-abortive employees deal with sentient animals in their dying agonies, and could he please come up with a different pseudo-solution. about a week later, he came up to me and, with great diplomacy and tact, told me to shove it up my ass.

powdered bait laced with rat poison was placed on the floor in and around the bar and kitchen. I called the health inspector, who brought the hammer down on both the poison and the sticky traps. the poison was cleaned up (part of that job went to yours truly, with no protection) as were some but not all of the sticky traps

I developed a small crush on a long-time coworker (cook #1) who began behaving in what I assumed was meant to be a flirtatious way (eye-fucking, going out of his way to talk to me in a way he hadn’t before, etc). this included some pointed questions about my mental health (the abortion and the relapse were public information at this point). bizarrely, he refused to tell me anything personal about himself. he started dating one of the banquet girls. he eventually told a mutual friend (cook #2, and our shovel-killer from above) that he “got [a] vibe” that I “wanted to fuck” but (as cook #2 gleefully reported to me) made a face and expressed disgust at the possibility of ever being involved with me in that way. (WHY ASK ME ABOUT MY FUCKING ABORTION THEN, YOU WEIRDO)

cook #2 started trying to fuck me. I did not reciprocate. he then told me he thought I was a “six” and that he wasn’t interested. a few weeks later he tried to fuck me again

early january 2020: got both a yeast infection and bacterial vaginal infection

january 6: J had a grand mal seizure on my kitchen floor. I had never seen a seizure and the tremors were so severe that my dad, who had seen many, thought he may also have been having a stroke (turned out, just a seizure). he was hospitalized overnight and kicked to the curb -- but the process was begun to get him back into rehab

january 7 (?): employee gift exchange at work. I was on shift and wasn’t participating, but there weren’t a lot of customers and my coworkers asked me to come join them. there were five-gallon buckets of old sangria to which we were given unlimited access (and remember that I was the bartender, so I took the trips to the fridge and back). I blacked out. cook #2 called my mother and I vaguely recall getting in her van.

the days following that “party”: cook #2 and several other coworkers told me I “didn’t seem that drunk,” ie was not a horrible embarrassment. however, cook #2 told me that I’d made out with him. then I started to hear rumours that I and a third cook (cook #3) had disappeared for half an hour to “go have sex”. let me be graphic for a moment: I was wearing a panty-liner that night because the spotting from the abortion hadn’t stopped, I had a yeast infection, and I hadn’t trimmed my pubic hair in about a month -- no matter how drunk I was, I cannot see myself agreeing to take my pants off around a random coworker. someone told me that I had a cheeseburger in my hand when we disappeared and was still eating it when she saw me again so she doesn’t think anything happened -- but I was suspiciously sore the next day. was it the yeast infection or was I sexually assaulted? I don’t know because I was blacked out and I never asked cook #3

january 10: actual staff holiday party. cook #3 introduced me to his long-time girlfriend. we all smiled and shook hands.

mid-january: mac miller’s circles album dropped. I decided I wanted to live. I continued to drink until the end of february, but stayed sober for much longer periods between much shorter binges

late january: I put in my two-weeks’ notice at the golf course and borrow some money from my dad. stinky came to live with us.

february 1: k, stinky and me moved into a small house my parents’ church is renting

most of february: fighting, gossiping, and faction-forming in my AA homegroup, culminated in a member being expelled and a series of “group conscience” meetings which involved yelling, fighting and crying. a relatively new arrival to our group (but a longtimer in the program) started to power-grab, which wouldn’t have fazed me except that she started openly singling me out as a “newcomer” whose vote did not count. this despite other members relapsing in the same period I did, and said power-grabber having been in attendance at my fucking cake five months previous. things got awkward.

mid-february: J went back to rehab

also mid-february: I got pulled over driving drunk in washington state. ironically, the confidence and ease I got from the alcohol kept me from being rude and short with the officer as I usually am, and he told me in a very friendly way that the speed limit would increase by 10 mph a little further down the highway, so perhaps I was confused, and I should take care out there. no ticket. a sign from god?

also mid-february: I got formally assessed for ADHD and tried ritalin for the first time. this did not end up working out.

mid-february: I was invited to dinner by the much older man who does the irrigation on the golf course, through one of the gardeners, a woman a few years younger than me with an established father-daughter type relationship with the irrigation guy. the three of us ate dinner at his house, and she proceeded to pass out from drinking too much. irrigation guy took the opportunity to feel me up.

end of february: I took my last drink and decided to start applying for jobs

also end of february: my ADHD symptoms as well as my anxiety began to spike, throwing a wrench in my resume-writing and hand-shaking plans

march: something else threw a wrench in my hand-shaking plans, as it did with all of yours. it goes without saying that I have been terribly anxious. the upside is that I know for certain that the abortion was the right idea.

also march: I switched to vyvanse and began to see better results.

mid-march, at the very beginning of shut-downs where I live: I see irrigation guy again and he takes the opportunity to pat my ass. 

end of march: J relapsed in rehab, was discharged and will see at least a ninety-day delay in his plan to complete the program and then get into secondary housing. he was briefly hospitalized, during which time the doctors did so little for him that he would have literally been just as well off in a drunk tank. service canada lost some of his paperwork so he still doesn’t have his medical EI money.

yesterday: J moved into my shed. he spoke to his counsellor, who will try to get him into a recovery house. I am confident that some things, particularly his EI money, will work out very soon. but whatever happens I have felt a reduction in the second-hand stress. as I said, and now he agrees: it’s a pretty nice shed.