April 9th, 2011

I wasn’t sleeping well without Doxepin in my nighttime diet of meds. My doctor took me off the drug because my wakefulness was being affected. I was in slow motion. Caffeine barely nudged me off the couch. I was awake but weak. I put myself back on Doxepin because I wasn’t sleeping as well. I’ll talk to my doctor about it next week. NuVigil works to wake me up. Even half a tab.

Its warm out. In the seventies. I think about hopping on my Superbike and taking a ride. Im not sure Im bright enough right this moment to deal with all that horsepower. Its early spring, both seasonally and soulfully. Theres a chill in the air despite the sunlight. I experience discomforting confusion in cold air and warm light. I’ve done it. Its okay. But its not the way I like to ride. Perhaps its the asphalt, still defrosting from frigid nights and a relentless winter battering. Tires can’t quite get grip. The edge is treacherous, dusted with road salt and sand.

Im spoiled by good weather and kicked in the ass by cold and rain. I have a weather affective disorder. If its nice out, Im energized. If not, no drug in any medicine cabinet is going to make a difference.

A motorcycle just roared past on the road outside. Its exhaust crackled with cold air, the motor perfectly tuned. It made me think that maybe I could go for a ride, handle the bike like i know I can, and have some fun.

I get in the way of my own life. Its a habit I have. My therapist told me that. I’ve been in my own way since I was a child. My responsible adult, filled with personal demerits, gets into a useless debate with my irresponsible, guilt free kid. Prescription drugs temper the arguments. At least I think they do.

I like those drugs that affect you within moments of ingesting them. That helps convince me of their effectiveness rather than those long term medications that are much more difficult to judge since their effect takes weeks to envelope the mind. I like feeling better right away. I have no patience with long term anxiety or waiting rooms inside the mind crowded with dead thoughts of doubt.

Getting motivated to engage the weekend has become an annoying disability. Though I’m busier now creatively during the week, Im usually motivated on the weekends to do something for myself. The past month or so I’ve spent weekends alone, on the couch, writing and thinking. Those activities lack the physical life force of riding the break of a wave or the slope of a road.

I’m writing a book. I keep my mind roaming around the edges of the plot by wondering what the main character is going to do about his life and the situation he finds himself in. I’ll follow him around this afternoon.

I think about going somewhere though I have nowhere to go. It engages my moody optimism. It eases anxiety though not without side effects. Lets me sit here without being nagged by thoughts that I’m wasting away a sunny day. If I have nowhere to go, why would I walk somewhere aimlessly unless it made me feel better? Does walking lighten my mood? No. Does it brighten my outlook? Not necessarily. Do I want to rake the yard? No. I like being on the water. A kayak in the sun when its 90 degrees in Belize makes feel authentically alive.

I’m content to write now and not to think about being outside. Its an easy way to body surf a Saturday. Nowhere to go unless its somewhere with nothing to do.

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