It Feels Unnaturally Harmonized

Sunday March 20, 2011

I wake up at 10:30 an hour before we set the clocks to wake us up. We have to be out of the room by 12:00.  I feel good and look over at Francesca.  I enjoy seeing her asleep.  I begin to massage her breast when something inside me tells me to stop.  I lay my hand gently over her breast and let it rest there. I think. I am calm.
Francesca wakes up and I kiss her eye. I kiss her nose.  She laughs in an annoyed way.  I get excited and say “Oh yeah!” remembering a favorite pastime of mine.  I try to gently bite her nose.  She squeals and turns her face quickly away from me.  I laugh.
When we were together after sex I use to lay on her with my legs straddling her, our bodies pressed together, my head resting on her chest bone.  It is very intimate.  I get on top of her and lie down.  She immediately says she needs to go to the bathroom.  I think the intimacy made her feel uncomfortable.
We walk to my car and I place our things in it.  She tells me she will wait in the car.  I hand her the keys saying “Here’s the keys.”  For some reason she looks uncomfortable and it prompts me to say, “you know for the radio.”  My voice is kind and solid the way I like it to be.  It seems to placate her unease.
I check out and we drive away.  A few blocks away I ask if she’d like to get breakfast.  She declines.  I ask if she would like to hang out or if she wants to go home.  She says she’s tired.  I drive her home. I am feeling spectacularly good.  The thoughts and voices tell me I handled myself well the night before.  I am being rewarded.
I go to Starbucks to write and notice two girls outside talking.  I make note of it and intend to talk to them at some point.  Inside I begin to write and I am pleased with how it goes.  The thoughts tell me it is good and will make my desires of fame and fortune come true.
I take a break to smoke a cigarette and walk outside to where the girls are sitting.  They are engaged in what appears to be an intimate conversation.  I don’t want to intrude.  I smoke my cigarette and go back to writing.
On another cigarette break I come out and the girl’s conversation has seemed to shift to lighter topics.  It appears to be a good time to say something.  The line “It’s beautiful weather today” keeps running through my mind.  I am feeling anxious and I run from the feeling by not saying anything.  I go back to writing.  Another cigarette break comes and goes and again I don’t find the courage to say anything.
After writing for several hours I get the urge to drive around.  I often drive my car, listen to the radio, and smoke cigarettes.  It is a coping mechanism from stress and boredom.  I do it now to take a break from writing.
As I drive thoughts begin to bother me.  I am supposed to take a new antipsychotic soon and the thoughts are giving me two threads that are conflicting with one another.  The first one is the book is going really well and is very interesting.  The second thread is the new antipsychotic will make my life boring.  I have a strong desire not to take the new med.  I have a strong desire to make something of my life.  The thought that without the new antipsychotic I could become dangerous enters my mind.
In my head a difficult decision arose.  Take the medicine and become boring, failing in my efforts to tell an interesting story or don’t take the medicine and become dangerous.  It was difficult fighting the threads of thought telling me how good the book would be.  The thoughts told me if I took the medicine my life would be listless and unfulfilling.  The conflict caused me angst and sat in my head for a while.
While in McDonald’s the thoughts told me I was being punished for not having the courage to talk to the girls at Starbucks.  I resolved to do better.  I drove back to Starbucks to continue writing, feeling anxious and uneasy.  I was a mess.
My mom calls late in the day. I tell her I’ve been writing all day.  We discuss the direction the book should go in.  I suggest she turn it into a novel, using imaginative details and descriptions but keeping the story honest.  She has other suggestions.  She tells me she is excited to be working on a project together with me.  I enjoy hearing this.
All day today the act of messing around with Francesca sits easily in my mind.  I have no guilt.  I like David but I feel no responsibility for his happiness.  Francesca and I have a close relationship.  That relationship justifies my actions.
Around 6:00 I begin to get very tired.  I decide to stop writing for the day and go home to get ready for work the next day.  I go home.  I take my meds.  I look at the new antipsychotic and decide I must take it.  I have to sacrifice my success to ensure I don’t go postal.  I slide it out place the drug in my mouth.
I was supposed to take the new antipsychotic on a night where I didn’t have to work the next day.  That night was spent at the hotel with Francesca and I didn’t have my meds with me.  Dr. Clarke was worried the drug could have a negative effect on me.
The drug dissolves in my mouth.  At that moment dread comes over me that it will have an adverse reaction.  The thoughts tell me they used the conflict during the day between going postal and being boring to get me to take the drug today instead of waiting.  I get scared.
I begin to feel funny.  A new sensation sweeps through my consciousness.  I am fearful.  I lie in bed fearing the worst.  Tomorrow is a big day.  Our Managing Director, the District Manager’s boss, will be in town and Tim thinks it is likely he will visit our store.  I get nervous.  A solution enters my mind.  I pick up the phone to call Tim.  I get his voicemail.  I tell him I’m taking a new antipsychotic and that I might have to call in in the morning.  I tell him I will call him when I wake up.  Since I open the store I need him aware that he may have to do it instead of me.  I’m hoping I’ll feel fine when I wake up. I text Tim, “Very Important, check your voicemail.”
As I lie in bed I start to feel better.  The thoughts tell me they are using my fears to cause Tim problems.  My phone rings and I talk to Tim.  He is calling from his girlfriend’s phone.  I explain the situation telling him I might call in but I stress that I think I will be able to make it.  He tells me to call Crystal and have her open the store.  I can come in at 9:00.
When I call Crystal our conversation goes well.  We click, we are in sync.  It feels unnaturally harmonized.  I feel good about my tone and word choice.  I feel a surge of confidence.  She agrees to open the store.  I call Tim and feel kind, confident, and in tuned.  He tells me to let him know in a couple hours how I feel.
Suddenly I don’t feel tired.  I decide to go run.  As I jog I get a cornucopia of thoughts, some pleasant and some painful.
As I get into bed the odd sensations in my head have dissipated.  I text Amelia, Tim’s girlfriend, “tell Tim I feel good.”  She responds “K ;)” and a few minutes later Tim texts me “I got your message.”
After that text the overarching feeling of my psychosis shifted.  Our texts are messages between the powers that control the world.  The thoughts tell me the powers that be are coordinating their response to the conflict in Libya.
As I lie there my thoughts roam freely and I begin to recap the conversation I had earlier with Crystal and Tim.  The thoughts tell me the new antipsychotic will polish my personality, bringing out my best qualities.  I enjoy the sensation.  I go to sleep.

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