On My Way Out

I spend my life, it seems, trying not to cry these days. I’m doing it right now. I’m dressed and ready to head out to sing at an open mike and thoughts of all that I lost keep trying to poke through my sturdy exterior. The thoughts are relentless in their pursuit and I’m certain that by the end of tonight, I will be curled up in my bed crying about my loss, just like I did last night. Ativan was helpful last night, but that was at bedtime. If I take one now, I’ll be washing it down with a glass of merlot and getting behind the wheel to drive myself home at 1:00 in the morning. I won’t do it.

Once I get there, the people in the room will keep my mind occupied and I’ll feel light again, I’m sure. I hope.

True to my plan, I confessed to my social worker that I have developed an infatuation with him. I went on to tell him that I know what I feel is a product of transference and we talked for quite a while about it. As usual, he was very professional and very nice. He really knows his stuff and he’s very good at keeping the focus on me, his client. He did commend me for having the courage to make myself so vulnerable and thanked me for my honesty. I feel better, now, and my infatuation has dwindled, which is a good thing because it was only getting in the way.

Today, I ran 4 miles in the snowfall. I have to keep remembering how exercising helps me. My endorphin rush lasted about eight hours.

So, it’s off to the open mike with me and then home to cry in bed, as usual. I told my social worker that I feel as though I’m going to feel this sad, angry and desperate until I’m dead. He said that’s just my fear. I hope he keeps reminding me of that. Hearing it helps me.

I asked him what he is diagnosing me with the other day. I was curious. I have flashbacks that can throw me into the depths of grief with no warning and I wondered what they mean. Clay said that he sees it as panic. So I guess that’s the official diagnosis. Panic Attacks. How cliché.

I’m going to finish my Pepsi, get my coat on and get going. I’m excited to sing tonight and panicked about everything else.

Shneed.