I was so rudely jolted awake this morning. When I opened my eyes I was sitting up and I was nose to nose with Jake, who had my face in his hands and he's yelling at me:
It's not real Bridge! It's not real!
Since, you know, if real life doesn't make you crazy enough, the nightmares will finish you off. The screaming. Oh, my God.
So far this week there has been yet another round of semi-catatonic rollercoasters. I'm going to burn down the whole amusement park.
The fuckers adjusted my medication. Less zombie, more Bridget. Thank God. I can't operate at 50% of myself and even Jake was showing serious wear with that. I need the sparklies. My sparklies were diluted by this shit and I hate it. I had been reduced to one word answers, no writing at all, mostly sleeping, trying to stay coherent and not using the stove, forks, a toothbrush or any other heavy machinery. Smiling was about as easy as lifting up the truck with one hand. Such a pretty picture I was. Thankfully I feel a little energy today. Not my usual headlong 150% into everything but soon.
I might even be able to drive soon. Not yet but soon. Once I master that fork.
Jacob's house sold! Thank God for small favors. He had multiple offers and made out like a bandit. He's really good with money too. Good in that way in which he's diligent and minimalistic and stockpiles money in the bank because he's sticking it to the man by being an anticonsumerist (translation: hippie with no furniture). Something I used to try to be. This could be the one difficult part of our relationship but since he's always around to discuss things with I hope we can do finances together, or he can continue on. Cole was so perpetually absent I looked after everything financial and he didn't care if I used retail therapy to fill needs. Jacob? well, Jacob doesn't have a whole lot of patience for things like $40 worth of cell phone charms from Japan or the Anthropologie dress addiction, which is partially his fault anyway, because I wanted to look pretty for him and he has a small unspoken thing about my dresses. He loves me in them. Wait, I think he likes them on the floor best now. Okay, nevermind.
And the best news of all, the sling is off for good. Finally. It was such a pain. I still have a long way to go but I don't have the imaginary grinding feeling anymore when I move my arms a certain way. This is huge for me. The visual reminders disappearing will do nothing but help spur the emotional ones to move on as well, I'm hoping.
The sparkles are congregating. I feel it.
