Yesterday "morning" at 1:05a I started a 2.64 mile trek home in the thick of a 7.2" total snowfall-storm atop the dangerous ice and existing banks in 10 degree weather. A trip that takes 8 minutes by car took 64 minutes on black-sneakered foot with two scarves, a very old coat, and a backpack almost bursting with laptop and books. I'm glad I was wearing my "nice" jeans, not the pair with the accidentally-trendy, meaningful rips in the right knee and thigh. I didn't fall this time, thankfully, but I was followed by a pack of heckling "men" at the beginning, until I ducked into a back-road I'd taken the opposite journey on once. The passing cars slowing next to me was too frightening for a while; I preferred more difficult hiking through untouched snow to the heightened possibility of interaction. The wind ripping through the barren branches sounded eerily like the crunching of tires on fresh snow and prodded further mindfulness of my surroundings, yet I could not tell you the names of the streets though I tried to remember. I jammed my left hand into my coat pocket and my right into the lining for I still need to finish reconstructing the lost pocket; I'm expanding. My hands stayed remarkably warm and I hung up the display and false sense of security called my cell phone to keep them that way. Why?
I'd forgotten the very medicine I contemplated in the last post at home. Forgetfulness is not uncommon in my world, yet this was irritating because this time I had been so careful to pack the usual three days' worth. I must have been interrupted en route to depositing them safely in the lining of my coat.
For 64 minutes, I paid very close attention in my head for an earth-shattering epiphany, but if your revelations occur as mine do you realize that was futile. They never come when they're called. Perhaps that's part of the wonder.
All those 64 minutes revealed to me was the question: Why? Why are you doing this? Simply, I wanted to sleep. The day had been draining, though life seems renewed and full of possibility in general right now, thanks to a few breaks. The day had been tough, though. Lying exhausted, painfully awake, experiencing withdrawal symptoms next to someone snoring fervently is my hell. Why not call someone for a ride? ...that's complicated. Trust me, it was better to walk. I've been walking a lot recently and am feeling the physical invincibility of youth, yet am reliant upon one small blue and while pill for something as simple and essential as sleep. I care hard and need to offset that energy expenditure with a reprieve every 18 hours or so.
So, really, there was no adrenaline-rush euphoria after an orgasmic insight born of this experience. Only the resounding question: Are you Master or Slave?
However...I would like to acknowledge that this very drug may make my current success and ease of life possible. I may be questioning the drugs because I feel fine--because they're working. My "psychiatric nurse" warns that when one goes off of these drugs and has a relapse, the second round of drugs are not as effective.