Breaks: Psychotic and Coffee

It’s hard to me to imagine that there are some people out there who have lost loved ones and don’t have support systems to help them through the days that follow their tragedies.

My friend, Robby, called today. I ignored the call. I couldn’t answer. I was in the middle of the psychotic break I described in my last entry. I didn’t want to put that on anyone. I’m tired of ruining everybody’s holidays with my story. Instead, I waited until my tears subsided, showered, poured another cup of coffee and then called him back, when I was sure I could recover my coherence.

He asked how I was doing and I told him I was spending the morning alternating between psychotic breaks and coffee breaks. I told him I was on break from my psychotic break and thought I would return his call. The thing about Robby is that even though our entire relationship is built on silliness, sarcasm and laughter, the tone in his voice became very serious and I could feel the care emoting from him. It meant a lot to me. We laughed more about the very fragile state I was in and I told him I would call him later. I didn’t have to. He called me back ten minutes later to invite me to come over and have lunch with him and his husband. I accepted. After all, I didn’t exactly start off 2006 with a proper diet. Between the hours of 9:30 (when I awakened) and 2:00 (Robby’s call) I had consumed two cups of coffee and a truffle. Nobody can accuse me of being a health freak.

I finished blow drying, put on makeup and drove to Robby’s, where I stayed for the following couple of hours. As per usual, we laughed and ridiculed each other until we were weak with laughter. I would do good to remember that I can go from hopeless to euphoric if I only take the initiative to accept the invitations of my friends.

On my way home from Robby's, Meira called and invited herself over for coffee. Once again, I accepted. And of course, Carol is always there. Always. I am a very lucky person to have the support system that I have in my life. These are the people who came running to be by my side instead of running away when things got horrid. I'm very fortunate and very much full of love.

Tonight I am supposed to go sing at an open mike with another friend. I’m teetering on the edge of not going. I’m feeling fragile and scared again and even though I know I can pull myself out of this grief by going with him, I’m not sure that I have it in me. I have about an hour to figure it out.

My other option is to toss back a wine and Ativan cocktail and got nuts. I don’t know, though. Drugs and alcohol? It is the age-old remedy. Maybe I’ll do it. I don’t know.

To sing or cry? Why is that a tough decision for me to make. I’m going to try to sing, I think.

Scaredly and unstably,
Shneed