Aug 20th, My sense of depression is getting deeper and deeper since I started taking the Diamox. I still haven't definitively determined if they have been tampered with or if it just natural. But I know that I cannot continue feeling like this. My eyes have not yet gotten that unrecognizable, "nobody's home" look, but I have lost all my energy and vitality. I can barely drag myself to work, and when I come home all I want to do is sleep or watch TV---no sense of iniative, of creativity, whatsoever. I think I know what I want to say but I have no ability to stick with writing. Part of the depression is that I can't think or write. All I know is I can't stand feeling this way. My spirit is feeling trapped within my flesh as I am unable to take any action. Today is a day of rest. I'm just going to spend all day in bed trying to get over
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Aug 6th, 2006
It is 2 pm and I haven't been able to get up and motivate myself to do anything. Of course, it doesn't help when you wake at 4:30 in the morning with a pounding migraine and nausea--7th day in a row, now, that I have suffered. I'm sick on the NSA's drugs. I still can't determine if its some kind of anti-depressant or just something to make me feel high and sick (so I will think I'm crazy or paranoid or whatever). In any case, the drugs definitely are undermining my ability to function. I can't take care of business--even routine things like sweeping the floor or grocery shopping. I just want to lie in bed and sleep or cry or fight the nausea.
I nearly got creamed by a car when I ran a red light earlier today. My mind wasn't even looking at the light. I was coccooned from reality, in my private, seratoniinzed Idaho. It was the second day in a row that I ran a red light. I ran one yesterday at Montgomery and San Mateo, which I know to be the most dangerous intersection in the city. But again, I was in a zombie state, and totally unaware that I was flagrantly running a red light until I saw opposing traffic coming my way (all of this happens in weird slow motion, and I seem totally disconnected from the reality of the situation). But today, I nearly got creamed, and that was a wakeup call. I don't want to be at fault in an accident that messes up someone's car and possibly their body for life. Even moreso, I don't want to be in this state I'm in any longer. I'm tired of feeling alienated from my own body and spirit, of looking in the mirror and not recognizing the image I see staring back at me. I have started to have fantasies of slashing myself again---I want so badly to escape this hateful feeling of alienation and soullessness. I recognize that this has been going on for a while. I haven't been able to pray since last Tuesday. At the end of yoga, I couldn't meditate. Instead, I nearly fell asleep (if indeed I didn't). Thursday I was too sick to go to yoga, but again on Saturday morning, I couldn't meditate. Instead I experienced that horrible, ersatz blackness of alienation that no doubt all the serotonin addicts mistake for contemplation. That is not contemplation. Contemplation involves the individual will and active spirit, and that is what chemicals deprive you of. There is no actively passive striving for the presence of God; there is just the presence of a black pit where there is no feeling, no spirit, and most certainly no divine presence. It's a variation of "religious experience"through substance intoxication (in this case, legalized chemicals)---phony and worthless, except to compare it with the real thing. I've had religious experience in my life that individual instances of ersatz prayer does not disturb me. But being alienated from reality through these same chemicals does disturb me. I remember how much I empathized with the homeless alcoholics when I was strung out on the psychtropic drugs before. That is because I was just like them--totally alienated from my own body and self by chemicals, just a zombie moving in reality, but not participating in it. It is truly scary to realize the power that governmental agencies now have to complete the most devastating of all torture--the rape of the mind. Well, as poor as my health is, I will take steps to save myself. Thanks to my torturers, my eyesight is ruined, my knees are enfeebled, and my body is stiff and dysfunctional, but I will take the steps necessary to preserve my spirit, to get back into a place where I can talk to God. I'm not feeling too good today, but I've got to keep moving, no matter how hard.
Saturday, August 5, 2006
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Aug 3, 06
I took a day off from work yesterday because it was a use it or lose it situation, and I realize that I may not be employed there long enough to use it. But it has been a truly horrible past two days, as I have struggled with migraines, muscle spasms and just an enervating malaise caused by the dope they are spraying in my house (and yes I know who is the point man for the effort). As I write, I have just awakened from a 2 hour sleep occasioned by severe nausea and headache (took another Fiornal---I am now taking those every day, and to be honest, I am fighting the need to take them more than once a day). I can't live with this pain anymore. I went to the knee doctor and he was full of shit. I could't walk up a flight of stairs at the psych's office today ( I couln't have walked up four or five steps), and he tells me that my knees are fine. I just had searing pain when I tried to get up and put pressure on my kneecaps--pain I have never felt before last year, and he tells me that my knees are fine. Then I nearly fell flat on my face, because my knees stayed locked and rigid when I tried to walk, and my upper body moved and my lower body did not, and he tells me that my knees are fine. Right now my legs and feet are completely numb from the drugs they are giving me. I realize now that these dumbasses think that that my leg pain and numbness is hysterica. Bullshit. The drugs they are giving me are physiologically messing up with my brain's ability to communicate with my body. And they are causing permanment physical damage to my musculo-skeletal system. So, once again, my experience is that I can count on the medical profession for absolutely nothing.
Then I went to the psych today and that was a bust. It is not a good sign that I was so sick with the drugs when I went to see her, nor was it a good sign that I was so sick when I got home. These medical ding dongs do not realize that the best indication that something is good for you is when the body accepts it, and something is bad for you when the body rejects it, and the fact that I had such an allergic reaction during this visit means I really am reconsidering going back---I doubt that she has my best interests at heart. Maybe she is just scoping me out for the dope.
The dope I am on (and I think it is psychotropic drugs, though it initially masqueradesas something more intensely intoxicting, and the intoxication does wear off), has me completely enervated. I have desperately wanted to clean and organize my room for weeks now, but I am constantly fighting the side effects of the dope. Yesterday was no exception. It was so hard to fight the dope, and I was sick all morning, but I forced myself to do it. But there was no joy in doing it or accomplishing it. There is no joy in me right now at all. I am in survival mode, forcing myself to do the bare minimum and then trying to recover from the complete enervation and nausea caused by the nausea. I wanted to do so much today, but all iniative and creative energy are just deadened by the drugs. I can't continue for this much longer. I know that. The pain and nausea is getting to be too much. I'm hoping to get through just one day of work tomorrow, and then I will have another two days off. I desperately need my body to get back in shape. Then next week will be the kicker. I will have to work 3 10 hour days. Chances are 50-50 that I will be fired next week. I don't know how I am even going to get up tomorrow morning as bad as I feel. I don't foresee getting up at 5 in the morning for three days straight. Well, I can only take it one day at a time. I am sick of suffering....
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
August 3, 06
I woke up with a bad migraine this morning, and still am fighting it. I can tell that the migraine is caused by muscular tensions and spasms created by the excess amount of speed and/or psychotropic drugs that I was given yesterday. My body lets me know when I am doped up, and yesterday evening, I couln't even torque my waist or put pressure on my knees in yoga. My legs, arms, and neck were like numb, dead weights, and I could hardly lift them. The pain and inflammation that is in my left wrist and shoulder is now spreading to my right wrist and shoulder. To wake up with such a painfully tight, bad back after an evening yoga class is very distressing. It is undeniable, physical confirmation of what my intuition has already informed me--I can no longer contain or reverse the damage caused to my body by the drugs. I am in increasing amount of pain (which makes me very cranky), and am getting diminishing relief from yoga and painkillers. Soon, I will have to make a decision to preserve my body from irreversible damage--I will find out soon enough just what kind of permanent damage has been done to my knees ((I can feel the crepitude with my own hands---that was not there 9 months ago, before these dumb morons started doping me up with their poison). I know what it is that I want and need to do today, but I think I am going to have to take drugs just to get started. I am in too much pain. Three cups of coffee and 3 Excedrin \Migraine tablets have done nothing for the headache. It is just a question of what I need to take---Fiornal or Flexiril---I'm sick to my stomach. Maybe I had better start with Fiornal....