The boring life of Jerod Poore, Crazymeds' Chief Citizen Medical Expert.

Roadblocks. Everywhere Roadblocks.

I've been trying to buy groceries for almost two weeks.  I dropped off a prescription a week ago.  Today I finally have it together to drive to Superior, pick up my meds and buy some food.

My truck has a flat tire.

The tube may be punctured, or the problem in the valve stem has become worse.  It doesn't matter.  I can't deal with AAA or anyone else besides the people at the pharmacy and the grocery store, as they were the ones I was prepped for.  I tried pumping it up, but even after jacking up the truck, inflating the tire to the point I could drive a mile and a half without fucking up anything is beyond the capacity of the bellows pump I have.  Although I've used it before, for some reason the can of fix-a-flat was too complicated for me to operate.  

I gave up after about half an hour.  An unusually short time.  Either I immediately collapse into despair or I worry at something until it's solved, I've tried every possible solution - no matter how ridiculous or unlikely they are to work - numerous times, or I finally give in to exhaustion.  Whatever it is that is causing me to be wiped out after something like vacuuming or just 20 minutes of Yoga, plus the depression and depression-induced absence of appetite, reduced my usual never surrender attitude from hours (days, weeks, months, years - it all depends on what the problem is) to thirty minutes.

Lately it seems like there is nothing but obstacles in my attempts to do anything.  It's hard enough for me to just get motivated to deal with my life, I'd rather completely ignore it, but when I try to accomplish the least little things some random event has to happen to make it all the more difficult.  If life is a journey, why does it have to be filled with so many fucking roadblocks and detours over shitty roads through bad neighborhoods?  I used to like getting lost, but that was when I had it together.  More or less.  Now that I'm barely functional, getting lost really, really fucks things up.

The agoraphobia and social anxiety are getting so much worse, and depression exacerbates them.  My latest theory on why they suck so much more these days: it's become much more difficult for me to pass as an NT.  Which is ironic, because autism, especially being in the Asperger's part of the spectrum, is socially acceptable.  So I shouldn't have a problem with people knowing I'm autistic, but I must be really fucking crazy to not give a rat's ass about people knowing I'm bipolar and have been in a psych hospital.  From an intellectual perspective I don't care, but in the real world I can't deal with people as I really am.  I've spent so much time passing as an NT it's automatic; it would be more work to not do so in public.  Either way I don't have the emotional energy to deal with people.  

Looks like another day, or two, to be spent watching DVDs and dwelling on my mistakes.  While I like the isolation I have, and would feel vastly more lonely were I surrounded by people in an urban area, or anywhere with a population density greater than...something more than the 5 per square mile I now enjoy, I miss a lot of things.  The two I really need are food that is delivered and being able to shop at 3:00 a.m.  I could theoretically drive to Missoula to shop at 3:00 a.m., and if this depression shows no sign of letting up I might just start doing that.  Make that 4:30, as I don't want to be on I-90 soon after the bars close. 

Assuming I ever get that fucking flat taken care of. 

"The dead do not have problems." - Kai, Last of the Brunnen G. Lexx episode 4.5 "Xevivor"     

Countdown to the solstice

I'm looking at a good six weeks of severe depression, and nothing I can do will be able to fix it.  It's a struggle to comprehend e-mail, or much of anything.  Posting this much has taken me two hours.  

I'm trying to switch to a nocturnal schedule, just so it's not as bad when I am awake.  Damage control is about all I can do.

It's one of those times.  I need something completely out of my control to fix it.  Some random event.  Big, small, I've never been able to tell if there's a correlation between how fucked up I'm feeling and to what extent the universe's unexpected gift has to rock in order to drag me out of this pit.  

Another thing that makes me feel better is running away.  For someone who doesn't deal with change very well, the crisis of moving can really cheer me up.  But it's not a vacation.  The thought of a vacation depresses me further.  I want to just run away.  From everything.  Just keep going north.  More latitude, more altitude, and more solitude.  Whenever I get profoundly lonely increasing my isolation is faster and safer.  I feel like a psychic contagion.  I don't want to spread the misery.

The house is falling apart.  Lack of maintenance will do that.  Lichens and rust are covering more and more of the trees and shrubs.  The landscape of my despair is spreading outward like some miasma.  All the more reason to go off the grid.  Find some remote place and retreat into a the comfortable crazy of conspiracy theories.  There are so many new ones to keep me entertained, and old favorites like cattle mutilations are still around. 

There's not much point in continuing.