It was a dark and stormy day....

and now it is a dark and stormy night.  But it's dry inside.  I had the day off and I've been lounging in my bed with the sound of wind and wind driven rain in the background.  And I've not allowed any other sounds into my day.

I only looked at the clock once.  I think that time is moving at a slower rate today because it has to battle it's way through the storm.

It's cold in my rental room.  Staying in bed has been a treat and a necessity.

I've been off my morning meds for a few weeks and have had a rough few days of withdrawal symptoms.  The mediset is reloaded and I'm getting back on track.  I didn't miss my evening dose of the magic potion that strips away all those behaviors that used to keep me awake.  While I sleep, the brain maid comes in and tidies up.

Bits of paranoia and anxiety have found me again, but despite that, I challenged myself.  I drove on the freeway!  Not far.  Not fast.  But I drove at the speed limit and trusted that I would not panic when I saw cars moving down the ramp toward the highway.

But I feel overwhelmed about work, dealing with the bureacracy of exploring the possibility of obtaining some assistance in improving my work and living situations, and applying for insurance.  If I am working full-time, although it is detrimental to me, can I be classified as disabled?  I have to quit pushing myself or I will have another break.

The NAMI support group that I've been attending has not met for about a month.  I miss it.  Going to group allowed me to shed dead skin, shake off the worries and fears that had latched on to me, and, at least for a little while, feel safe and a little less lonely.

I've had very little contact with my tribe at the Unitarian church because I've been working on Sundays. I take my client to his church, a small evangelical congregation that is beginning a second life.  Most of the songs are foreign to me, but occasionally they include one of the old hymns that echo in the dark Southern Baptist corner of my brain.  Being off my meds allowed me to re-experience some of the vulnerability I felt when I was young, the fear of falling under the spell of those who wish to save my soul, and the deep sadness of knowing that no matter how much they called me forward, I would eventually be cast aside due to my possession by the devil as manifested by my continuing sorrow, fear, and inability to trust.  I wanted to control myself, not surrender control to another father that I feared. (There was a lot of smiting in the Old Testament!)

And, for the first time, I'm considering coming out of the mental illness closet.  If I don't take good care of myself, I may lose my footing and slide into another break which would throw the closet door wide open.  So I stay in my room today knowing that I will be stronger tomorrow.