Homeland Security, Ex Boyfriends, Thermonuclear BM's and Coming Unglued

[Strayboy74]

What a day.

My doctor recently put me on Trazadone for sleep and depression.  I don't take it as prescribed because it makes me groggy the next day.  In fact, I was prescribed 60 days worth, but after taking the first one, and being groggy for the next two days, I decided to cut the 90 miligram tablets into quarters, which is working much more toward the desired effect.  In fact, aside from my inability to poop in any of the four states of matter, to the untrained eye, with the help of the quartered Trazadone, my day began in the most picturesque of ways.

So, as I was saying, the sun was shining, the flowers were singing, and the clouds were dancing across the sky.  Nothing was gonna bring me down.  Inspired by my perfect morning, I even decided to once again take up the battle with my doctor over the thyroid medication that he doesn't think I need to be on.  It took me two hours, but I composed an email that with a cold reading was certain to win even Susan Lucci an Emmy.  And, later, when I went to the bank, The ATM spit out a couple extra twenties that I'm not going to concern myself with, and I discoverd that once again, it is pomegranite season. OH, LIFE IS GOOD.

I skipped the gym this morning, much to the chagrin of my gym partner, whom I forgot to tell, but decided to go after work.  He's a very forgiving people.   thank god.  So, once I got home, I started to pack my gym clothes, when I discovered that my ex had called.

I have good relationships with my ex's.   I hate bad break ups, never was my style.  Anyway, upon calling him back, I realized something was wrong...   He had come unglued.

Now, what is "unglued", you may wonder.  Hrm.  Unglued is a clinical term.   Okay, it's not, but it should be.  And, for those of you who are prude, blue nosed, or feint of heart, I encourage you to read no further as this posting (in all likelihood) will acquaint you with your own feelings of becoming unglued.  Or maybe just feelings of disgust.  However you feel, well that's your business...

So, unlued is what I became, almost a week ago, when against my own pride I had to begin wearing adult diapers.  You see, I woke up in the aftermath of a thermonuclear BM.  This is even how I explained it to my doctor who seems to believe that I live in absolute hyperbole.  But those of you who have woken in such a state, and hopefully nobody's lover has fallen victim to such an experience, know the shame, fear, and anxiety surrounding such an episode.

However, in this case, (that of my ex) he was unglued over the shadow people.  Shadow people.  hrm.  In this case, it was the FBI, and the DEA, and the SFPD and the Daughters of the American Revolution... oh, and the alien chips which were implanted at the hospital.  He wouldn't slow down, and wouldn't start at the beginning, despite the numerous times I tried to get him to start there.  In fact, of the endless parade of unprotected sex partners mentioned in aforementioned groups, he couldn't give me a straight story (forgive the pun) but he knew that a conspiracy was in the works.

I put back my gym clothes, and immediately took a cab to the hotel at which he was staying.  I went to the fifth floor, room 507, and found the door ajar.  Oh, I remember this game, after all, I used to play it myself.  I pushed the door open, to find my beloved ex, ass-end in the air, face buried in a pillow.  After all, everything I know about sex, I learned from my cat, and my ex learned from me.  God bless that tortie.

His eyes were dialated, his blood sugar through the roof (he is diabetic).   He was fearful that the FBI and CIA were on to him, and trying to pin deviant behaviors on him.  God Bless the Homeland Security.  We talked for hours, before I convinced him that I was "on his side", and went to get some turkey and various vitamins for him to eat.  The triptophen would do him good to sleep (why didn't I bring the trazadone with me??) and my own experiences with methamphetamines had proven the benefits of B vitamins.  Where the hell was someone like me when I used to do illegal drugs?? damn, he was lucky.

We stabilized his blood sugars, as much as we could and drank a great many fluids, we lied on the bed, doing breathing exercises and telling stories, we tried to pinpoint the day his run began, when he told me.  He started slamming methamphetamines because he couldn't deal with his own feelings around our breakup.  What kind of asshole guilt trip was that supposed to be? Now, at this point, it is important to realize that the reason we broke up is because I serosort, and unfortunately, he is negative.  He confessed that he feels guilty that he is negative and I am positive, and that's why he uses and has multitudes of unsafe sex.

My heart has always been with him, and I think he needs counseling... but then again, so do I.

After he fell asleep, five hours after seeing him again for the first time in 6 months, I took a cab home.  I received an email from my doctor who decided to give me my thyroid medication But my problem now seems to be the head weasels of guilt, shame, and sadness for the world around me.  And, the head weasels keep breeding, and mating, and propogating into new species of weasel in my head, and now my mind is splitting.  I don't know that I can do this with him.

So, after this purge of information, and my finger diarrhea is exhausted, I'm taking a trazadone.  I want tomorrow to be groggy.  I'm not sure I really want to see the rest of the week.  Like a good codependant, I want to make his world a better place.  I just know that I can't.

I surrender.

-joseph

My friends, I am now unglued.  I'm not out of my tree, but I am unglued.

[Robert]

as my friend Mick says, "...you can't always get what you want...but...sometime(s)...you get what you need."

You've got the diapers.  Ever been in the Presidio walking your dog when you realize right then and there you need to 'drop trou' and take a shit?  And it hurts like hell because you've been constipated and the damn thing is a log the size of Popeye's forearm.  Then you start bleeding from the goddamn hemorrhoids and because you're losing so much blood, you become anemic.  But then I just read the other day if you take too much iron, then you become more susceptible to dementia.  Jesus Christ! I can't win.  It's a vicious cycle.  That's when I become unglued.   

And as by friend Sonny says, "I got you babe."  It's people like you and, along with my Prozac, help me keep myself "glued" together. 

One more quote.  As my friend Rocky likes to say, "Don't Worry.  I understand.  I'm Postive too."

robert

[JohnOso]

Dear god...i think i understand too.

Dr. Oso says:  less Art Bell, mas vino, un poquito Blow Buddies now and then.....

hope you're feeling better Joseph.


John

[Christine]

I haven't got the adult diapers yet, but I can't tell you how many new packs of underware I have bought this year. When the accidents happen, I just throw everything away.

I hope your ex works everything out.

Christine

[wellington]

Oh, if only Warhol was still with us, I can imagine some urbanly provocative arty display of soiled undergarments. I'm definitely feeling like un poquito os something with all these grey clouds, snow and rain. I used to like fall. I really did. Lately, it just seems I go from one minor ailment to the next on the doorstep of that magic CD4-200 threshhold. I shouldn't sweat the small stuff, I know, but it's like that dripping tap at night when sleep is so desperate. I guess another viewing of the pictures at dermnetnz will make me feel much better, or perhaps 5 minutes of Jerry Springer.