"Hey Bartender, I'll Have Another One of Those 'moodswing Supremes'...

Alcohol, non-prescriptive drugs, some kind of bi-polar mood disorder condition that I never remember I have until it's all over me;-then more alcohol and it's subsequent withdrawl and where does one symptom stop and the other begin and then good ol chaos of the mind and paranoia entering and "I'll take another mood swing please."  My head is not an easy place to live, I know.  I fantasized about jumping off the bridge but then I quit drinking and I couldn't get the courage up.  Besides, I knew I'd be totally misunderstood, even with a passionate note, and as soon as my friends got over the shock, like the next day, they'd all be having their own opinions as to why I did it, and I'd have to spend half of the next eternity as a frustrated ghost, trying to point out hints as to why their belief was not the right one.    This emotional head game that breeds in this environment creates a stress that borders on the bizarre.  While I am struggling to find some kind of balance without medical assistance, my tortured imagination  attempts to finish me off; and if you add this condition to a life- time of insecurity, -throw in a little colour, you get a ton of excitement, for which to crawl, jump, and fight through.  Laugh. Cry. Shout out loud.  You get it all...cheap.  I even had myself convinced that my beautiful  woman was having an affair with a guy down the street.  Proabably that xylophone teacher, I thought:  He's kind of different and I know she likes to try different things.. Everytime she'd be out for a bit, she'd come back with an odd smile, with some strange new tune on her twisted lips.  Or that exterminator guy, whose van I came home early to see parked in the drive.  "Oh, hi hon," she says, with surprise, to see me home, as they emerged from the bedroom.  "Did you know we have rats?  **** showed me where they come in!"  ****?  Rats?  First name basis, I think, my mind reeling: "Yeah.  I'll bet that's where they come in."  I mumble under my breath, glancing at the room, my face flushed, and him in his smart uniform.   But this is all part of my depression, I tell myself, - it's not really happening.  I toatally love and adore my wife and I know, I'm sure,  she loves me too.  All I gotta do is go and look at that gorgeous strait-jacket she knitted me for Christmas, -with all those fancy belts and buckles, she added.  I think, I'm starting to come around again though.  A couple of weeks plus without any alcohol or drugs in my system and things do look a little clearer.  My best friend is very ill and where I hid from it with substances and denial,  and where that helped no one, I now try and face that with step by step of reality that sobriety allows me.  This doesn't change the facts, but it certainly is better to accept stuff than to pretend it doesn't exist and have all the entailments of that coming back worse.  I even thought I'd surprise my wife with a valentine card in the mail, pretending it was from someone else, like when we were kids.  She'd get a kick out of it when she saw it was from me, I think.  Unfortunately, it didn't arrive in the mail.  I'll bet it was the mail-man intercepting our stuff again, - the guy she once said was cute.  I think he's trying to cause something between us, I noticed how he looks at her.  That's alright.  I can deal with things better now that I'm sober.  I can punch him out,-him with his big fat mail-bag, much easier when I'm sober.

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Feb 15, 2009