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Reflection from August 15th, 2011 @ Age 30


Been chasing escape lately, to bad places that I shouldn’t be going.  Not that bad, but I’ve definitely been doing things I shouldn’t be doing.  I’ve been skipping yoga and TRX sessions that I’ve paid for, smoking cigarettes like mad (although I only had one today), taking less medication than I should be (taking ½ my daily dose of Lamictal, splitting my two doses of Focalin into four throughout the day), eating a lot, drank too much on Saturday night and then drove home.  Bad stuff.  Bad behavior.

The worst is yet to come as well.  I took something that I shouldn’t have taken because it is not mine to take. Well, three to four of them to be exact, although I cannot remember exactly how many.  And I would divulge the entire detail of it all, except that I’ve chosen a profession for which I could be punished were this information to be disseminated.  I am not being watched, but I will be in the future, and I will be judged harshly as well, if I’m not behaving in the ways I am supposed to be behaving.

Not like this entry would look good anyways, but what have you.  I have been chasing escape.  I’m not sure why, but maybe I can talk it out.  I haven’t felt like writing in ages (obviously).  

Cooper has been in and out of the hospital – a week in July, a week this month.  He’s coming home today.  I’m very excited, but have overwhelming guilt because what I took was his.  And he would be mad if he knew what it was — very much so.

My god, Cooper’s texting me like mad, Gabrielle just called.  It’s like I shouldn’t be writing or something, but I’m ignoring them for just the short time being since I very much so actually happen to be in the mood for writing.

So anyways, where to start?  It’s pretty obvious I was manic and depressed in June.  I was skipping many doses, decreasing the ones I was actually taking, etc.  It was just so nice to feel again—it was like I couldn’t get enough of it.  And then I started smoking cigarettes because I got so stressed out.  Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t had any cigarettes today.  I had my last of the pack last night.  And I’m trying with all of my might to not buy another pack.  You know how the story goes—I’ll just buy one more pack and then that’s it!  Never is!  It’s like, I’ll work out tomorrow!  Tomorrow never seems to come, don’t you know…

So I upped my meds end of June because Cooper came home from work and found me lying on the bed wanting to kill myself, and I was half kidding but also half serious.  Life became bleak in a matter of days.  It’s so bizarre.  But before that, ohh the high!  Cooper said in June I would get so excited about my “book” idea that it was like I literally won the lottery or something.  And I’ll tell you what, it fucking felt great.  So that’s that.  I’m back up on my meds, although not to the place I was when I started.  I just don’t want to feel numb again, all the fucking time.  It’s so horrible to just feel blah all day long for days, weeks, months on end.  I’d honestly rather feel like killing myself with the potential for feeling high (naturally, of course), than feel numb all the time.  It’s an awful choice to have to make, although things could be way worse.

So I don’t know—I’m not really sure where that puts me as of right now.  I don’t really know how I feel, to be exact, and I would like to find out, which will entail writing, which I am hoping I will be more so in the mood to do from here on out.  I guess I’ll just have to tide you over with what’s going on in my life for the time being though.  Until some sort of revelation comes.

So here I sit, at 5:38pm, painkiller in tow, wine glass on hand, MacBook Pro in lap.  What a combo ;0)  Actually, it’s wonderful (I hate to admit).  I think in a way, in a BIG way, it’s a blessing that I have people watching me.  I know how I am, I know how easily I get out of control.  So I’m lucky to have some sort of gauge on that, to help me be at least somewhat aware of my instances of lack of control, which, by the way, I most certainly appear to be in at the moment, without a doubt.

I went to Filene’s basement last week and spent over $350.00.  And then I went to TJ Maxx yesterday, and spent another $400.  I mean I can tell you all about what I got, how awesome it all is, what great deals they gave me, etc., etc.  But it’s pretty clear from the sound of it, that I’m pretty out of control over here.

I guess I just wish I knew why, which would make it a lot more simple to fix whatever it is that’s going on.  So I’ll just keep writing, maybe it will become apparent by accident.

So yeah, Cooper’s been back and forth to Pittsburgh, in and out of the hospital, in terrible and negative moods about the outlook as it relates to his health and career, to say the least.  We had some long talks about it and he agreed to go to therapy with me together as a couple type of thing.  So we’ll see whenever we get that started, but I think it would be helpful, if not for him (which I think it would be in any case), then definitely for me.  I just feel like we have a difficult thing that we are trying to work on together as a team (i.e. Coop’s lung transplant), that most people in our situation (i.e. newly married, etc.) don’t have to deal with, and we just need some guidance and support.  Or at least I do, which you would think my own psychologist would provide, but that’s a whole other story.

So I guess that’s been getting me a bit down, just that Cooper’s been so negative about things.  And the thing is, I totally understand how he could be like that!  And because I understand it, I want to kind of let him be like that for a little while, to a point.  Because I think sometimes just feeling things helps you to eventually work through them, even if they’re “negative” emotions.  But despite “understanding” it, it still makes me feel pretty fucking down from time to time.  I don’t even really want to talk about it to be honest—as I sit here on the verge of tears.  But it’s not because it’s not pleasant to feel, as much as it is that I’m not really sure how to be more specific than that.  It’s just been making me feel rather blue, suffice it to say.

So on another note, last Saturday I also went to Home Goods with my mother and ended up spending $100 on baking/cooking pans.  I mean, I got the whole shebang!  I got deep dish cupcake pans, cookie sheets, a rectangular lasagna pan, a square cobbler pan, two round cake pans, a banana bread/meatloaf pan, a cheesecake pan, and then I threw in three airtight glass jars for display/storage for dry goods.  I mean, it was pretty much ridiculous, but at the same time, like my mama said, this is what I would have gotten at a wedding shower.  Except, there was no shower because Coop was dying and needed a lung transplant.  And so woe is me.  Ahh well, it was an investment, and they’re awesomely sturdy, heavyweight, non-stick, high-end baking/cooking ware.  So it’s not for nothing, it’s just that I’ve been spending an exorbitant amount of money lately.  

A couple weekends ago I finally bought a fire ladder and fire extinguisher and air filters for the house from Home Depot.  Last week Cooper and I found a baker’s rack from the Container Store for $200, which is going to help turn our kitchen into an awesomely functional space—but still.  What else?  I bought my mom a $130 designer purse (part of my TJ Maxx purchase), as well as a leather jacket and a utility jacket (both beautiful, and also part of my TJ Maxx purchase).  I bought a pair of cognac knee-high leather boots from Steve Madden online, because they are flats, and I’m having a widely averse reaction to high heels lately, of which my entire boot collection consists.  

From Filene’s, I bought an orange Italian leather purse for the fall, two long sleeve dresses (one casual and one for our anniversary dinner this October), and just wait for it…LOL…an orange snakeskin pair of DOLCE AND GABANNA MARY JANES!!!  And let me tell you man, those bitches are beautiful!  And they were only $100!  But you know — $100 plus all the other stuff added up to $350, plus all the other stuff I’ve bought this month, and it’s just plain silliness.  I mean, it’s pretty much abso-fucking-lutely ri-goddamn-diculous.

So there’s that, but I don’t feel manic—I mean, I don’t feel like I’m shopping because I’m manic.  If anything, it feels like it’s because I feel down and it makes me feel better.  It’s all part of the escape, in any case.  I tell you what, I want another one.  I know I shouldn’t, but I might have to anyways.  It just feels so fucking good. 

I guess the problem is that I just don’t know how to relax after work.  I mean, I come home, and I know I could go work out.  But honestly, who wants to go work more when they’ve just gotten home from working all day?  Not me!  And so the laziness goes.  I want to escape my mind, but why?  Why, why, why?!?  What is going on with me?!?  It’s so bizarre that I can’t pinpoint it, not even a little bit.  I mean other than Cooper being negative and that whole thing, I really just cannot figure it out.  And it’s driving me crazy in the meantime.

I want another, but I know I shouldn’t.  And I want a cigarette, and I know I shouldn’t do that as well.  And I should be doing laundry, but I just feel like sitting here and writing.  Cooper should be home around 8:30 or 9pm, so I have a little time.  

Our bed sheets haven’t been washed in probably over a month.  I just hate doing that, and of course, if I don’t ask, Cooper never will take the initiative.  I guess that’s one thing that’s been driving me crazy.  I feel like Cooper never does any goddamn housework until I ask him to, and then it pisses me off that he makes me ask because then the assumption (in his mind anyway, I’m sure), is that I’m nagging him.  Asshole.  What a convenient way to go about it.  It just pisses me off.

Ohh, I guess there’s another thing that happened relatively recently.  Well, two.  On July 7th, it was the 5th anniversary of Dave’s death.  And then on August 2nd, it would have been Dave’s 30th birthday.  And on his birthday, or actually the day before, I went on this Facebook page his sister created, “Friends of David Joseph Magoon”, and don’t you know, his trashy Californian UVA freshman year girlfriend wrote something to the effect of “Ohh Davey I miss you so much and happy birthday and I’ll miss you until the end of time” or some kind of bullshit like that.  Like she just had to be the first one, which was stupid in and of itself since she posted it on August 1st, which wasn’t even his fucking birthday yet.  Stupid bitch.

The whole thing just pisses me off, all their cute little smug pictures together.  It’s crazy too, because in my heart, I really do believe that had Dave lived, we would have ended up together (for reasons I will explain at a later time).  But she was the one that he left me for.  I truly believe that he never stopped loving me, and that he loved me more than she, or at least in a different way that was more significant in the long run (or something like that)—but it will never change that she was the one that he left me for.  I’ll never forget leaving his house to head back to Denison fall of 1999.  I’ll never forget the sadness of him leaving.  I made him pay throughout the years, but I’m pretty sure in the end, I was the one who paid the most.

Anyway, that’s that.  I want another.  And a cigarette.  I won’t have the cigarette.  But I will have one more painkiller.  Ohh fuck me if anyone ever finds out…

Mission accomplished.  I’ll tell you what’s truly bizarre…

What’s truly bizarre is how wonderful feeling the numb escape is, versus how horrible the blah-ness can be.  I mean, what the fuck’s the difference anyway?  Let me try to explain:

The blah-ness feels like I don’t want to do absolutely anything but sit on the couch.  I don’t feel happy, I don’t feel depressed — I feel nothing.  My mind is blank and cold and empty.  Feeling numb, on the other hand, feels like I am still present.  It feels warm and comforting, and inspiring and relaxing, and I actually do things that I get some satisfaction out of, like writing.  So maybe “numb” isn’t really the right word at all.  I’m not sure what the right word would be—but numb seems to be all wrong for sure.

Cooper just called me and I did not pick up because I don’t feel like talking on the phone.  I don’t feel like stopping the writing.  I don’t want to interrupt the flow.  I’m afraid I’ll lose it altogether if I stop now.

In fact, where do I even head from here?  The night before Cooper left for the hospital this last time, he woke up in the middle of the night and screamed.  He bolted upright in bed, screamed, and woke me into a fucking panic.  He said he had a dream that he met death.  Now, what the fuck do you say to that?  I mean, can you even imagine?  He was terrified and I was shocked and maybe part of the reason he dreamt that is because earlier that very night, I told him about my enduring fear that I’m going to wake up in the morning and find him laying dead next to me in bed.  I don’t know.  I’m going to fucking cry.  Moving on…

So, I’m still very much so in love with my idea for the book, but I feel completely overwhelmed by the amount of journal entries I have to go through and outline before I can actually get anywhere with the whole thing.  So I haven’t worked on it for about a month and a half.  Plus I was out of town six fucking times in July, so that had something to do with it as well, but still.  I’m just feeling overwhelmed.

And speaking of feelings, I’m feeling like my fingers may develop carpal tunnel syndrome (whatever that is LOL) if I don’t take a break here.  So maybe I will call Cooper back.  I’m hungry too.  Maybe I’ll get something to eat.  Anyways, until later my friend…