Today is the first day of the- yeah, yeah.

Doing okay today. The early relief that comes with promises of change or help or sympathy or whatever this is. The hope of a reprieve from the monster that is my mind. My corrupted soul trying to change my body and heart in place while I fight without a rest. I don't know what this is, I only know it isn't normal and I know that he rewired my brain in the worst way possible and then before he had time to teach me how to use it, he was gone again. And now he's back and he gets a front row seat to his destruction every day of his life and somehow I hope the guilt eats him alive. 

But it won't. 

In the meantime, Caleb's been hovering. He hates new doctors, hates not having control or at least input, as it were, hates being told what will happen and when. 

It'll be weeks before I see improvement. You can go rest, Diabhal. 

Not on your life, Neamhchiontach. I'll take care of you. 

Stop, I whisper but he can't hear it. 

Yes I can, and no, I won't, he says in return.

Maybe the guilt will eat him alive. I want to be here to see it. Every moment of it.

I will wait for my Rice Krispies on the moon.

NICE. If someone had told me I wouldn't be able to buy Rice Krispies for six fucking months I would have stocked up, the way I did on Goldfish crackers, toilet paper, cold hard cash and now Doritos, because my province is literally in hell lately. 

On the upside? They have rapid tests at the pharmacy now but I didn't get any because I forgot as I listened and fidgeted through the pharmacist's list of cautions and side effects for my spanking brand new pills and then for good measure I was handed a seven-page printout of information. I think they have to, though this has nothing to do with signing legal contracts and just about everything to do with me falling asleep in a bowl of Honeycombs this afternoon. All of this above-board now, as it seems to keep the wolves in check.

All the boomers back home have covid. The rest of us only go outside when we have to. I woke up Ben and dragged him to the grocery store at seven this morning and he dragged me to the doctor at ten. It was a cold call, just to see what transpires and she passed all the tests and after a lengthy discussion it's clear Bridget's anxiety is absolutely off the charts at this point and something has to be done. 

Also more therapy (yeah, no) and no alcohol and mindfulness off of youtube. 

Or something. 

But let's start with drugs. Half dose to begin and then next week I'll be asleep before I can even pour a bowl of cereal and still make it to the big table. I hate side effects. She said to give it five weeks and then come back and we'll shoot for the moon but hell, I think I'm already there.

Yeah, yeah.

Flooding into my brain. Jacob's voice at a time when I don't have the alertness to protect myself nor the want. I loved the sound of his voice. A soft rumble. Easy enough to understand but strikingly deep. He went up an octave if he was very passionate or singing but otherwise it was like riding a wave of warm molasses. The closest deep voice in the house now is Henry, followed by Caleb.

Princess, you need to wake up. You need to get up and do things. You can't hide under the blankets all day. 

I don't know if it's in the present or if I'm reliving a memory. All I remember is that I was stubborn and he knew how to goad me into doing things. He would state a fact (usually untrue) and I would leap to prove him wrong. Lochlan always said that was an unhealthy way of forcing someone to comply but if anyone was a professional insubordinate, it would be Loch. 

I roll over and off the bed. I don't know where Ben is but I hear the shower. When Ben doesn't have meetings or medical appointments he sleeps halfway into the morning now, since mid-January or so but I like to think he actually does it to keep me company because this is a place I rarely leave now. I cheek my pills, they're in an old pill bottle under the top of the headboard. I don't sleep, contrary to Jacob's (and Ben's) observations. I do sometimes put on a face and go and hang out, like with Daniel a couple of days ago, but otherwise I live in pajamas, I watch Netflix and I swallow back as much panic as I can overnight only to drown the moment I'm distracted. I know the big meds are coming. I can see them from here. I hear the train and see the smoke on the horizon. Lochlan only lets time go to a certain point before he calls in the seriousness because he doesn't enjoy peering into the darkest holes to look for me and he certainly can't be content to look the other way. That isn't in his DNA any more than listening to orders is. 

Is that healthy? I don't know.  I see no irony. He tries. I fail. He is ultimately responsible because I'm not even allowed to start an online candy subscription, as it is technically a legal contract and guess who is not a legal adult? 

The story of my life. 

*sad laughter*

But I'm up and I'm clean and in jeans and Cole's sweater and somehow if this is better than bed then I wait patiently for Jacob/Lochlan's argument on precisely why.

The faceless princess.

Booked a vet appointment, an appointment to get my Driving license renewed and then I went to see how far they were booking in advance for the full Class 5 license for Henry and discovered he has to wait another year to take it, as it's a full two years between the Novice license he got last spring (one step up from a learners, he can drive alone with a big green N on the back of the vehicle and there are restrictions on the numbers of passengers, and the Class 5 which is full and unrestricted and best yet, no magnets to lose/forget about/scratch the paint/be stolen. Also it's a damn prize for him at this point as none of his friends have more than a learners, save for one, and right now that friend does all the driving mostly because Henry doesn't love to drive but he loves to ride along. 

Then too soon I looked for T4s and T4As and T2022s and whatever the hell else I need but as I said everyone has til the end of this month to get their things to me and then I will do my best. Until then I guess I am off the hook for taxes, which is sort of nice as a reprieve, though I also like to have it all over with. 

The windchill has it at minus eight right now but the sun is shining so, so bright.  I head next door where Daniel is anxious to give me a winter weather pampering skincare treatment. Or something. I don't know but I love spending time with him so off I go.

***

Daniel is reading out instructions and outcomes and I sit in the makeup chair in their gorgeous big bathroom while he puts scary things on my face and laments the hilarity that I've never had girlfriends and Bailey (my older sister) is very out of touch and so I ignore basic beauty standards most of the time and revert to whatever the boys do because they are all very fastidious about hygiene and appearances, truth be told. 

Albeit in a super-contrived, totally casual way. 

(snort)

He's doing a glycolic acid peel and tells me that in a couple of days my skin will start peeling but just to do a little moisturizer over it and not pick at it. 

Um. WHAT? Why would you put acid on my face?

It's not that kind of acid. 

You just said after forty-eight hours my face will melt off. Jesus Christ, Dan. 

No I did not and this is a basic exfoliation that everyone uses once a month. 

What's wrong with my facecloth? 

It can't get deep down into your pores. 

What's wrong with my pores?

They get dirty. 

No, they don't. I wash my face. 

With what? 

Soap. Duh. 

He actually screams in falsetto gay. I love it so much. Never use soap on your face! 

What do I use then? 

Cleanser. 

Like....soap.

Didn't you used to buy skincare from Sephora? 

It was all greasy or creamy and I never felt clean so back to soap. I tried though.

What do you use? 

Rosewater spray and garnier eye bag cooling gel stuff. Lip stain. 

That's it? 

That's my whole routine. OH and I use hairdressing oil when I get flyaways or static.

Right. Can't forget that. Well. Should we go shopping or go to a spa? 

No. 

Whyyyyyyyy Bridget. 

I hate being touched. 

He bursts out laughing and winks at me. Such tiny lies. 

No. Like massage or pedicures or haircuts. Don't touch me. You guys are fine though. 

Then I have to be your esthetician. 

I'm never putting acid on my face again. The only thing I have going for me is my face and now it's going to slide off in the sun on Thursday. What will I do now? 

I told you the steps. 

Right. Moisturize! That will fix everything. 

It will though! You'll see!

Evil definitely didn't die tonight and probably won't any time soon.

Yesterday was crystal shopping and Newfoundland fried chicken and a run to donate some stuff that was languishing unused, like redundant snowboarding gear and jackets. So many jackets, some brand new. Also winemaking supplies as we just do small gallon batches now as it's a smaller footprint that way and easier to control quality outcomes. 

Productive for a long week. 

And last night was my movie choice so of course I picked Halloween Kills. 

Save for any of the scenes inside the hospital and that fucking Tommy (who still can't act, after watching Anthony Michael Hall in thirty years worth of movies) it was perfect, though the back and forth between James Jude Courtney and Nick Castle playing Michael left me clearly understanding who was who by the way they walk. Nick is larger and walks with purpose in a menacing way. Jude looks like he's finessing every move, a serial killer Sinatra and it's distracting and almost amusing save for the fact that everyone's screaming. 

A solid 9/10. Poor Haddonfield. They never can catch a break.

Duncan fell asleep during the absolute loudest of the screaming, his head in my lap and Ben followed shortly thereafter against Lochlan's shoulder just as the plot was going into overdrive. I didn't even feel tired once.

Nothing to report.

My phone woke me up to let me know the Queen has Covid. But of course she's going to keep working because God forbid she take a damn day off. At 95. After 70 years ruling over the monarchy. 

I wonder if that's how I know I'm royal. Because I think I got Covid over Christmas and still hosted a big holiday. Don't worry. I was the last to get it, as everyone else was sick first even as I tried my best to stay safe and make people isolate and stay away (MY KINGDOM MY RULES) and still it didn't work and it's not like we can get tested or could have been tested because my province said no tests for the public to use at home and if you've been fully vaccinated just stay home and get better. So we'll never know and sometimes Schrodinger's plague is nice because we can just weaponize denial, as always.

It's Sunday but Jesus didn't come. He probably has Covid too and that's fine. We weren't going to visit him today because Sam is still off and we go to support Sam moreso than anything else and Sam ministers to the point so thoroughly that no one feels the need to worship offsite. Also the sun is shining but it's supposed to rain so I had hopes of that cozy weekend continuing ad infinitum. It would have been so lovely. According to the weather it still is supposed to be awful overnight and that pleases me as when everyone is off and home and tucked away it's when I am at my happiest. 

I had a wonderful day yesterday. Tattoos and burgers and random dance parties. The tiniest of walks with the dog, who can't go very far and I slept in an extra couple of hours and today I feel a little more in control. 

That's so nice. Sounds dumb but if you only knew me.

Okay but-

(This is your Bridget on four hours of sleep. Thanks, August. Well, I mean hell yes, thank you, August.)

What are you doing? 

Researching brain tumors. 

Why? 

The headaches, Locket. And now my eyes are super-sensitive to light suddenly and they burn by the end of the day and I'm waking up every morning with headaches again. 

It's stress. 

It never stops though. And I look up 'eyes sensitive' and I have like every symptom on this list. I'm dizzy all the time, my hearing is gone. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. My eyes have gotten much worse over the past few years. My whole mood has gone to shit. Look at this-

I'm not going to dignify your whim this morning, Peanut. You're fine. You've been saying this for decades and we've just had a long bout of stress-

Some of the tumors are slow-growing, you know. Someday you're going to find out I was right. 

So what should we do? 

I need a head transplant. Clearly it's the safest option. 

Where do we find another Bridget-head? 

At the cheese farm. 

What? 

Long story I told Dalton about a cheese farm and how it was the best place to raise herds of cheese free-range. But now I have to add a patch of back-up heads. I wonder if they need full sun-

Oh my god. Tell me all about it. 

Over dinner. It's a very long tale. 

But if you can remember it it means no tumor. 

Hope you're right. 

5 4 3 2 1.

Where is he right now for you? 

I don't know. Maybe a little snappish. I lick sugar off my fingers and turn the page of my book as he gets up to go make us coffee and croissants. I brought over a whole tray of chocolate ones. If I leave them at home PJ will just eat them and then lament the comfort level of his jeans waistband. The bed sways gently on the ropes. The big gooseneck lamp on this side is casting a warm light on such a dim rainy day and I've been here since fiveish. I couldn't stay home. Couldn't be outside. Didn't dare duck into Caleb's wing or anyone else's for that matter and I couldn't get Lochlan to wake up enough to understand the gravity of my panic in a meaningful way. He spends his life sleeping with one eye open and after a fashion he will eventually crash. Don't we all. I can't fault him for that. I have a whole team here and I need to be more proactive in utilizing it. 

August comes back with a coffee cup and saucer, placing it on the night table. He doesn't bring me a second croissant. One is lots. I'm getting spoiled and I'm getting the third degree too. He's got a gift for being charming and stern at the same time but in a totally different way from Caleb. 

Thank you. 

Chocolate in the sheets. 

I'll strip the bed before I go. 

Leave it. I like your perfume. 

I'm not wearing..oh. I get it. He is snappish too but out of loneliness, not from a lack of privacy or understanding. 

He's in here. I tap my head. It's dark and I locked the door. So you can sound the alarm, I guess. 

I'm not going to do that. 

How come?

He's under control. 

For the moment. 

Sometimes it's by the moment that you live. By the day. Like the program. 

They should have one for this. 

They do. 

It doesn't work for everyone. 

No, some people just don't have the luck with it. 

That's me. No-luck Bridget. 

You can have some of mine, then, to see you through. 

You have some luck today?

You're here, so yes, I definitely do.

1,2,3, let's burn.

What a week. I did nothing except let my anxiety run free, unchecked. Now I know what Lochlan would go through when he would give me free reign to run the fields between shows or walk the beach for hours in the moonlight, something I miss dearly but we can't really do it here. The breakneck staircase sees to that. Caleb wanted to build something safer. An elevator. Or carve out some of the backyard, losing real estate to make for a more gradual decline but we decided that was too super-villainy (even for him) so we did not. 

I opted not to do a lot of things. We didn't grocery shop. We could live for months on what's in the house and the deep freezers and sometimes it's good to just not. I opted not to worry about paperwork. I actually did some taxes, today in fact. I put on Ateez really loud (this week I like Answer best) and organized all my paperwork. I made a huge sloppy martini with three olives and then I made no apologies to go along with it. I swore at Lochlan and he laughed in my face, lovingly. 

You're too sweet for me. I put my hands against his cheeks.

I think you've got that backwards. I get a kiss on the nose for my trouble. Couldn't get rid of him if I tried. I stopped trying years ago. 

But it did end okay. Caleb did the fending off. The attack. The guarding. The vicious showing of the teeth to the world and I came in at the back, holding up the lantern, showing it was only me and people would do whatever I needed. It was a long week but I asked for help and I got it. I loathe doing it and I did it because Lochlan asked me too. Hoping this coming week will be better. Have to burn those pajamas first.

I couldn't do today so I put on fresh Hello Kitty pajamas, poured a hot cup of coffee, brushed my teeth and left my phone on DND. I sent Caleb out in front of everyone who came at me, aggressively or otherwise and I hid like a small child in a basket of clean laundry while the wolf did my bidding against the dark. Sometimes you need a wolf instead of a magician. Illusions are better than everything else but trust me, results are good too. He is a Devil in the streets too, you know and so who better than to fix everything I broke while in my panic of getting used to living differently. A new hole opened and we have to remember to go around this one too and some days..

You just forget.