a drive through crazytown

Well! Hello.

Ahem. I must say this quietly so Fate doesn't hear me.

< whisper > I am better. Much, much better. Wellbutrin is Ze Debil, it tried to kill me, but I have banished it! To the moon! Anyway, still crazy, but better. < /whisper >

There really hasn't been a whole lot going on. I wanted to post yesterday, but I was catching up on my journal readin' during my lunch break, and before I knew it, POOF, it was over and right now I don't have internet at home.

(I say RIGHT NOW I don't have internet at home because lordy, I don't think I can live without it. I've been CLEANING because there's nothing to do. I know! I did laundry and even vacuumed and everything. I was a veritable maelstrom of activity. Don't tell anybody.)

After four months on Wellbutrin, I had forgotten what it feels like to not want to die. I don't know if it was so much the Wellbutrin or just that I needed a long, healthy break from people screaming "I NEED I NEED I NEEEEEEED" in my ear at work or what. I suspect it was a combination of both.

My therapist is nice but she's Dotty McDotterson, y'all. She wants me to do things like draw a picture of Cindy (Satan Principal) and erase it, or visualize putting her in jail or something. I respect her for suggesting these. Eradicating my obsession with the Fear And Loathing Of Cindy is a tall order for any human; no wonder I need help, I'm dealing with Dark Forces here. But, my friends, just between you, me and the fencepost, it's going to take a lot more than drawing her and erasing her to make the flashbacks go away. Dotty did mention that it is a concern that I am still having flashbacks after over a year of being removed from the situation. It's like being inside the photo album from hell. This is what it's like in my head at any given time:

Me: La la la. (Doing stuff, has nothing to do with May 2004-July 2005.) La la la.

My Brain: aww, look at the kitties! Isn't it a beautiful da--SCHOOL HALLWAY! HIGHWAY INTO TOMBALL! APARTMENT BATHROOM! FALLING DOWN STAIRS! CINDY'S FACE! OLD CLASSROOM! TEACHER'S LOUNGE! DISTRICT ART SHOW! SELF IN CAR SOBBING!---

Me: (Twitching on floor. Bit of drool.)

(Side note: I have a new reader or two who may not be fermiliar with the Whole Sordid Story--to read it, go here, to my old blog. You're welcome. Enjoy my agony.)

Anyway...being back at work hasn't been bad. I've had a couple of assholes call, but you know...deeeeep breaths. I leave at nine. It's all good. My supervisor was quite lovely when I came back, I got to use sick leave for all of the days I missed, so I still have all of my PTO and I'm not in trouble or anything at all. I'm having to force myself to say that kind of thing without any disclaimer--you know, saying "I'm not in trouble" without adding "I mean, not in trouble that I know of," because I'm just distorting shit left and right and adding to my anxiety and I'm supposed to work on that. So I'm not in trouble. And my inner bitch needs to STFU.

I am also walking around my apartment and reminding myself of the things that are different, because I have this problem with wanting to throw all of my belongings that were with me in Tomball into a huge vat of holy water or throw them away, because I never want to look at them again, and that isn't feasible, especially in regard to my huge dresser. There are a lot of things that I have replaced, and if I can't replace it I've covered it up or I've washed it or wiped it down or put it in a different room. I just wish I could convince my inner lunatic that this is not the same situation, I am not in the same place, not the same time, things are quite different, and to stop letting someone who never really knew me and was intent on destroying me quit ruining my life already.

Hey, on the up side, I've lost weight. I know because my pants keep falling off my ass. WooooooT