I hope no one minds if I indulge in some journaling. I probably should go back to therapy, but, at the moment, that seems a little too daunting for me.
So, after being awake for two days, I fell asleep last night at around midnight, which is the earliest I've fallen asleep in awhile, and woke up around 4 am. Unless I take the daily limit of diphenhydramine all at once, that's more than I usually sleep.
Upon waking up, I had the most intense wave of suicidal ideation I've had since I read Yuval Harari's "Homo Deus," soon after it came out. I loved the book just as much as I loved Harari's prior book, "Sapiens," but, unlike his prior book, this one shook the foundation on which I situated the meaning of my life; my optimism on humanity's future. This caused me to reexamine some things, reread some things I've read on dealing with death anxiety, and have some conversations before finally returning to my usual equilibrium
That's not the path I took this morning. I felt more like I was walking down the halls of the high school I went to. I felt jolts as I remembered painful things, but also a sense of comfort in knowing that I'd spent a good amount of time in this place and survived.
Anyway, I concluded by deciding to minimize my anxiety for the next week, and so swore off any substances (I'm not a consistent user, so this isn't hard for me to do) and, as I went for my daily 4 mile run, scanned my iPod for something other than my usual running albums by Opeth, Cradle of Filth, Devilment, Death Grips, The Agonist and Wintersun. Other than most Opeth's albums, these albums don't hit a deep part of me, and, while I love them, can't take them very seriously, but, nonetheless, I wanted something less intense than these.
I thought about Tom Waits, but couldn't put myself in that powerful yet withdrawn of a mood, so I ran with The Cure's "Pornography," and "Faith" albums, and cooled off with the first movement of Brahms's "Piano Quartet No. 1." Honestly, I don't think The Cure are very good, but their gothy vibe and my inability to take their music as seriously as they do, fit my mood pretty well. As far as Brahms, I think he's a master of expressing a wide range of complex emotions, but, like Beethoven, at the moment, he's a little too high minded for me.
As a result, as I listened to him, I thought about switching to Ezra Klein's latest podcast with Tyler Cowan, but decided that to minimize my anxiety, I should also swear off anything political for the next week. I hope nothing terrible happens (war, corruption, recession, people's healthcare being taken away, etc...), but somehow the political world will have to survive without me. Instead, I'll be using my reading time to finish Murakami's "Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki," and listening to some Miles Davis albums and Grant Green's "Idle Moments."
As I approached home, my best friend called me. His life consists of juggling multiple parallel lives, and he may take even more substances than my mom (depending on how you count them). Also, like my mom, he struggles with anxiety and depression.
I answered and, after some prodding from me, he opened up about some guy stuff, which he hadn't since my coming out, like that his fiance started wearing 10 pairs of underwear at night, because, even with all the drugs, he still has the libido of a room full of 16 year olds. We then turned to exploring various questions on human nature and the human condition.
It was nice to talk to him. Sometimes I get so caught up with life that I neglect him, and he locks up, and then all I see of him is him working on his latest invention in his garage, and peeing in plastic bottles, because he doesn't want to go inside his house and get chastised.
As I'm finishing this post, I'm feeling somewhat hopeful. At this point in my life, I'm more open than I've ever been about my anxiety, so even if I continue to suffer from it, I may at least not suffer in the same way I have.