Back at the Keys

Day 72

OK World, I'm back. Thank you to all those out there who have inquired about my whereabouts. I'm happy to report that my recent disappearance was strictly work related. I was involved in several political campaigns in the recent primary election. After that, I had to climb out from under the mountain of work that had piled up on me while I neglected my regular clients due to my political pursuits. Anyway, I have returned.

The next hurdle in the "getting better" challenge is my appointment with Doc Brown, the shrink. I see him on the 19th. He will evaluate my prescription and decide where we go from there. You may remember that my current dosage is only an introductory strength of 50 mg. Coach says that regular clinical strength is anywhere from 100 to 150 mg. Also, since the Xanax ran out, I haven't been sleeping again. I dance with the "Blue Death" occasionally, but I try to use it only in desperate circumstances. Dr. Thurman doesn't like me to mix OTC and prescription meds in the long term.

I have noticed that I function better around "normal" people since the Zoloft reached full potency. I have to admit, though, that I haven't begun doing exposures and challenging my rituals yet. Not having the pressure of hiding them from my friends helps, but it also enables me a bit. I know I will have to take them on eventually. I'm just waiting until I know what a full dose of meds will do to me.

Coach tested me at my last session and officially declared that I have ADHD. This is something I have known for years, but I finally have a real diagnosis. Now, here's the true definition of "crazy." I have one disorder that is managed by routine and organization. I have another disorder that is routine and organization elevated to the level of sickness. In Gatlinburg, my wife found a T-Shirt that reminded her of me. It said, "You're just jealous, because the voices only speak to me." The trick is learning which ones to listen to, I guess.

In other news, I have actually started playing music again and having some semblance of creative thought. I sat down at the piano and enjoyed myself for the first time in a long while recently. For those of you who know me it may be hard to believe, but the "crazy" got so bad that I literally didn't play for over six months. I couldn't focus long enough to make it happen. It borders on tragic to think that something so integral to my very being was beyond my reach. I can't tell you what it means to me to have the music back. I can hear it in my head and make sense of it where, for so long, there was only noise, confusion, and cacophony. I have also been able to laugh again in the last few weeks. I love to laugh. It's healthy. But when you're imprisoned by the "crazy" nothing is funny. I have a long way to go, but it's slowly getting better. That's good news.