The Week Past; The Weekend Ahead

No big shakes over the past week. I made it to the IOP class at the garden center on Tuesday, of which I’ve previously written. I didn’t realize for a while just how much the anxiety produced by that morning really affected me and I found myself replete with stress and fear, to the point where I ended up not being able to leave my apartment Wednesday morning (other than to one of my “safe” places, the convenience store) and missed Wednesday’s IOP session. It’s not a big deal, as I called in so it was excused. They are aware that I very often have difficulties trying to get out of my door, out into the big, bad world.

It turned out I apparently needed Wednesday to myself, anyway, because I slept almost the entire day and into the late afternoon. And I had a difficult time staying awake Wednesday evening and ended up going to bed early to go for even more sleep. I even felt a little bit more rested than I have for a while, a feeling I’m not very used to. Sure, my body was all stiff and achey due to the fact that I almost never move when sleeping (except for my fingers, which go through the motions of playing the piano). But mentally I felt pretty alert, much moreso than I had of late even with the improvement I’ve gained with each lowering of the morphine dosages.

Thursday was… I don’t really know, actually. I know I went to the convenience store early in the morning. I just don’t remember any part of the day after that. Maybe I was asleep; or maybe one of my alternates took over for the day. I wish it was the one who is more of a clean freak than even I am because my place has been neglected for a while and desperately needs some sprucing up. My plans for Thursday included getting some jumbo strawberry plants into soil on my balcony (which, I think, Popcorn is going to view as her new litter box); put together a bookcase for my beautiful leather-bound book collection (and other books, too), something I’ve been putting off for well over a year; and get the TV hooked up (new one, flat screen, I was supposed to have help with the monthly payments on, but the person who was going to help me passed away unexpectedly). Needless to say, none of those things got done. I really (again) have no idea what happened to Thursday day. Thursday evening/night were awful, all of the extra sleep I had gotten catching up with me and my not being able to sleep more than an hour or two.

The fear/anxiety over leaving Friday morning for that day’s IOP class was apparent. But I “tricked” myself into getting out: had garbage and old litter box gravel/gunk to take out, along with recyclables; once out, decided I would go to the convenience store for my tankard of Diet Pepsi, a little bit of sweet junk food to satisfy a craving, and a pack of smokes (more on that in a sec); and then I just didn’t come back home. I drove around in an area I really like, then took my sweet time putt-putting on the way to where the IOP is held. I got there just a little later than I normally do, but still way earlier than anyone else. So I put out chairs in the room, into the preferred circle, and then read a magazine I had brought until the Friday Facilitator, M, came in. I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks and, since I think she’s pretty neat and compassionate, we chatted for a while before the other guys started trickling in.

The first section of yesterday’s class was the same as the first part always is: “checking in,” where each of us says what’s been going on with us, how we’ve been doing, etc. and so on. The second part was really great for me, something I needed. It was about practicing self-care, being more positive with oneself as to the way (scientifically studied and found to be the case) we normally berate/chastise ourselves for any mistakes, etc. It dealt with replacing those negative thoughts and reactions with positive, and I got a lot out of that section (and will hopefully teach myself over the next few days/weeks/etc.). Like many, I am extremely hard on myself, often disappointed with things I did or did not do, and so on. Now I’m trying to change not necessarily how I do things, but moreso my self-reaction to them, either good or bad, and in a more positive way. (Sorry – redundant paragraph, huh?)

The last section was, as usual with M, a poem to be analyzed. This one sucked this time, some crap by Edna St Vincent-Millay. Sure, it was topical, went along with the theme of the day. But man… *snore* It was made more difficult because the other guys weren’t really participating besides me, except for one who took up minutes and minutes after each line or two not really talking about how we relate to the poem, but about the same stuff he’s been talking about since he joined the IOP group a couple of weeks ago. I’m not really trying to be critical of him — he’s super nice, so soft-spoken that even sitting next to him I had a hard time hearing him. It’s just that he’s been on the same “rap” since he started, as I said, and is working on trying to fix it all. Again, he wasn’t really “present” and with the poem we were discussing. But still… nice guy going through a tough time who obviously needs a private counselor as well in order to be able to discuss in finer detail what is truly eating at him so much.

Class got out at noon and I raced home. I’ve learned that something new for me, road rage, is probably irritability caused by my brain’s freaking out over wanting more morphine or some other substance. It’s part of the process I’m going through. But still, man, I’ve been shocked by my own actions and by a lot of the things that have flown out of my mouth. “Fucker” as been a favorite, as has that dreaded “C” word I actually hate but have found myself using a lot over the past couple of weeks. I’m constantly yelling (inside the car, of course) things like, “Do me a favor, fuckwad, and stick to one lane,” or “Did you really need to fuckin’ wait until I fuckin’ got right up to your street to fuckin’ pull the fuck out in front of me, only to fuckin’ go fuckin’ ten miles below the speed fuckin’ limit?” Practically everyone in public is a dick, an asshole, a motherfucker, a senseless prick… you get the idea.

So I was glad when I made it home and could come into my apartment, safe from the rest of the world (and the rest of the world safe from me, too!). My previous plans of the bookcase, the strawberries, the TV, etc., again fell through as the sleepless night before caught up with me and I crashed and burned. I again slept the afternoon away, was falling asleep soon after dinner so went for what was supposed to be a nap, and ended up sleeping until just before 11 p.m. I was in a bit of withdrawal because I had slept through my medication-taking times so I didn’t really feel too great. I managed to stay awake for, maybe, an hour or a little more before falling asleep again. It’s 5:37 a.m. right now and I could go back to sleep again. But I’m going to wait for a little bit. Right at 6 a.m. I’ll go to the convenience store for the Diet Pepsi, and then I have to go to the grocery store for a couple of things, especially my allergy medication. I’ve been out and that just cannot be this time during the year (or any other time for me, for that matter). I’ll get back home probably around 6:15, 6:20,

and I’m expecting a call from a friend from Washington state who is planning on coming to visit. I’m excited about that!!! After I talk with A, I’ll hopefully be able to get a little bit of sleep.

At 1 p.m. there is a potluck here, in the lobby of my building, for a really sweet woman who passed away at the beginning of this past week. It really made me sad, in a big way, that she finally died because she was very nice to me (and to everyone else, too), was always helping out with people’s animals and plants and housecleaning, etc., when those people were gone for any reason. She was very, very kind and funny (and called me “Darryl” for the first year or so we knew each other, not remembering my name and me not correcting her!), and like me had AIDS for many, many years. Over the past couple of years she had been in and out of the hospital for heart-related ailments, which is what finally got her earlier in the week. I didn’t know she had died until I saw a notice of the potluck by the elevator. I’ll try to go to that, even though I’m already uncomfortable with the whole idea. And then I’ll come back and try to get a good nap in to prepare for my evening plans. Yes, for the first time since P and J’s wedding in December I actually have plans to do something!

My counselor has finally talked me in to going to the monthly benefit drag show, a big deal which helps to raise funds for the clinic. When I tried to go once a couple of years ago I made it to the parking lot but then couldn’t get out of the car to go in. I had a full-on panic attack to the point where I almost called for emergency services. Anyway, when I saw my counselor on Thursday (Oh! That was something I did on Thursday that I DO remember now!) she was bummed for me that I had no plans for my birthday, which is tomorrow, the 19th. So she’s bought me a ticket to the show tonight, and will herself be there with a friend of hers. It’s kind of against the rules for us to do things together that aren’t necessarily along the counseling vein. She’s leaving a ticket at the door for me and I’m going to go in and act like there’s just no other available seat except for one at HER table; so I’ll have no choice but to sit with her and her friend. LOL! Actually, I don’t think anyone from the clinic will worry about us sitting together, nor about her buying me the ticket for my birthday. But still… that’s our cover story and we’ll stick to it if we have to!

I really don’t have plans for my actual birthday on Sunday except to talk to my Sunday morning phone pal, who is here on OD as well. We’ve always been close, but now even moreso because we chat with each other almost each and every Sunday morning for a good while. I just love talking with her! The rest of my birthday day will be spent doing? Watching? Seeing? Going? In other words, again… no plans. I might go for a drive if I scrounge up the gas money while still leaving enough funds to get through the next week and a half until I get paid.

I know this has been really long, as my entries usually are and for which I apologize. (Gee, one would think I rarely have someone to talk to, which is the truth!) But just a quick thing more.

I’ve just about gotten rid of the cigarettes again. My doc put me back on Chantix and it’s going well except really difficult when I have to leave the apartment. For the past few days I’ve been smoking as much as always even though I was supposed to be off, totally, on Tuesday. I’m just trying to get through tonight, after which I’ll have a couple of days to deal with not smoking before I have to leave, to go out in public again. I asked for my doc’s help because over the past year or so I’ve noticed a worsening of both the COPD/emphysema and pulmonary fibrosis I have. It’s got me panicked to the point where I think I’ll finally be able to totally quit. That, and the money thing, are huge motivators for me. Wish me luck with things, won’t you?

I wonder who this beauty was, don’t you?