wake up call

Image by lavagirl6699 via Flickr

Moments ago, I realized that I had outright forgotten where I put a few burning incense sticks. Let me back up a bit to set the scene.

It's wicked hot today and humid. I feel like I'm not all together with it. Because of the heat, I'm somewhat lethargic. Also, it's my first of ten days to myself. Anyway, for months I've been craving cinnamon pancakes with cooked apples and maple syrup. So I decided to have a pancake or twelve and puke. I made a conscious choice.

Those of you with an eating disorder have probably purged at least once, so you know first hand how much it can waste you. And wasted I was...am? I felt dizzy and spent, but slightly euphoric. I know y'all know the high. Don't play like you don't.

After getting that out of the way, I carried on with my day and began to heavy duty clean the kitchen. Cleaning out my house seems so important to me right now. I thought some incense would be nice. I lit a three sticks, one for each floor. I remember lighting them. I then put some tunes on the stereo and got caught up in doing whatever; singing, cleaning, looking through my daughters scrap books, crying about the life we've lost, pulling myself back together, cleaning, etc. You get it.

I did dishes, dusted, cleaned everything in the kitchen stopping short of scrubbing the ceiling and walls. I really, really want to do the ceiling. I can't explain it. When I took a moment to get water, I smelled the incense and I panicked. I looked all over the house and could not find it. I have no idea where I put it to burn, no recollection.

My thoughts are so obsessive, so demanding of my attention that I get consumed by them. I hate it. I'm totally obsessive compulsive, totally anxious most of the time and I don't know what to do about it anymore. I want some drugs, man, alprazolam or lorazepam preferably.

I do this every time anxiety gets bad, think about calling a doctor, a head shrinker. But I don't want to get labeled as a drug seeker, even though I probably already am. I have so many days like this with crippling anxiety. The best I can do is to putz around the house and hope that it passes. Fuck. I'm too old for this.

The good thing is that with pancakes out of the way, I can do my fast without a particular food obsession. The bad thing is that I'm nutz. I wish I weren't; really, I want to have my life back - any life back. The funny thing is that I sound like this to myself when I think these oh-I-wanna-get-better thoughts:  Wah wah woh wah woh wha wah wah wah wah, like Charlie Brown's teacher.  (o.O)