In my head

I had a dream night before last that I was in jail. And as I have never been to jail before, it looked and felt all Oz and Scared Straight enough to me. Tami from Basketball Wives was in with me and we were buddied up and she was showing me the ropes. The jail ropes. Don't eat over there. She stare you down, you stare her down right back. He gon try to hit it, watch yo back. Occasionally she would flip her lip and go ape on someone who, in my opinion, didn't deserve it. Afraid will never describe how I felt. If ever I longed for a V8 or Calgon take me away, or if the earth could actually swallow me up, oh to be Enoch and just be not anymore. If there was anything I was certain of, it was that I would not survive that place. And it was only a dream; but who knows from dreams when you are dreaming?

I woke up the next morning in thank Jesus shout that it was a dream. But my dream, as my dreams are, was only a visual description of my mental world. The fear that I felt when I was in jail is how I feel when my mind sells me out for someplace better. That's what it feels like. Like we were cool and then all of a sudden things seem to shift right before me. Transformers. The tears fall, the sadness ensues and lately I keep having these episodes where I can't seem to do the simplest things. I was in therapy for about a year last year up until October. And I'm tired of talking about crazy about last night episodes and sadness clouds that loom so I contacted another therapist. We meet next Wednesday morning. 

I know it's time for me to see someone again because I have seriously gone off on myself and too many folks in the last two weeks for super nothing stuff. I'm afraid of talking to my friends because of some random blow up that might come out of my mouth. Because that's how it happens. I could be casually talking, texting, Facebooking ('cause that's a verb) and out of the blue I will just go IN, Son! Then I make it worse by being super apologetic as if that helps. Then I'm all embarrassed and wish I could just "I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home" the whole thing away. 

Years ago I met with an herb "doctor" who examined my eyes and told me I have a chemical imbalance. I've heard of that but I don't know what that means. His lame response was "Well, you know what a chemical is right?" Me: Umm, right. "And you know what imbalance means right?" Me (thinking): That you're an idiot. So I never saw him or anyone who called themselves an herb doctor again. 
But back then I wasn't "trippin'" as much as I am now so I just put the whole thing in the whateverrrrr basket and moved on. Plus, there was no Internet back then so I couldn't just Google ('cause that's a verb too) chemical imbalance and like I said, it just wasn't serious enough for me to go to the library about. And no, I didn't have health insurance back then either. Judge yourself. 

Alas, March 2012 and it is that serious now. Wednesday night I was driving home and had this...this...I don't know, this heavy so heavy I was afraid to go home. Before I go on here, to my family and close friends who may read this, I get that this is not where or how you would want to find out about this, but think about me and how much I don't want to have this conversation with you and answer questions I can't even answer for myself. Anyway I was driving home and felt...afraid. Of? Being with myself I guess. So I drove to the hospital. I've never done that before. It was almost 10:30 and what was I gonna say? Um, I feel...um...sad and um I was like wondering...The closer I got to the hospital the more anxiety I felt. But I could feel a voice telling me to just keep driving to the hospital. So I did. When I got there I was scared to pull into the parking lot because I couldn't figure out how much the parking would be. I was adding and subtracting and carrying ones and it was crazy because I had enough on me to cover the parking. I knew that the whole parking money thing was silly and that at the bottom of it was that I just didn't want to go in. So I didn't. I drove home and on the way home for some reason couldn't figure out how to change lanes. So I drove like 20mph almost the whole way. I could feel myself, my real self, outside of the me breaking down telling me to get it together. Yes I made it home and then, as if I needed to break down further, I couldn't figure out how to unlock my friggin' car. By the time I got inside I was so wiped out. But the cloud. The cloud was still there. Now, I don't have episodes on that scale everyday, but everyday it's something. Even if it's just the tears from nowhere.

But today was pretty cool. There were tears, but tears are regular now. But it was a good day. Not posting or responding or like ing anything on Facebook. Not texting or calling or just saying hi today. Although I did go to a birthday party today and thankfully it was just two blocks from where I live. I enjoyed myself and got through it without being too weird (I think). That's the other thing, I over judge myself. All the time. For now I am just happy to be home and making soup for my son and doing laundry and writing this whatever this is and watching television with my son, who is one of the few folks in my life I have not gone bezerko on. And with all this Trayvon going on that I have justifiable anxiety about, I am happy to be here with him on this Saturday night watching a marathon of the silliest show ever that is actually called "Ridiculousness." And nothing is better than this right now.