i’m sitting at my desk trying to be patient, waiting for the pain meds to kick in. i had surgery on my left hand a couple of weeks ago. i just took a long nap and missed my the time when i was supposed take my percoset, by an hour. my mind wanders back in time to 10 years ago? maybe not that long. i can’t remember.
i was sitting in the room my husband and i share, my half was my “studio” and half was his gaming room. it was 3am, the loneliest time of night. peter (husband) pushed the door open gently, so as not to frighten me (anything unexpected could throw me into a panic attack). and asked me to turn down lady gaga. i hate lady gaga, but alone with my mania and anxiety, she seemed like the door to a party, another thing i hate. but it seemed like the thing i desperately needed. action! people everywhere, loud music, coke all lined up and an imaginary drink in my hand
i hadn’t taken my meds for at least a week. everything was out of control. i stayed up all night drawing, drawing with colored pencils. pages and pages of partially finished drawings lay in piles on the floor, all around my desk. i was sweaty and i hadn’t changed my clothes in days. i gritted my teeth and pressed down so hard on the pencils that the sharpened tips broke off over and over.
his eyes were squinty and he shivered in just his boxers.he asked me if i was ok. i didn’t know if i should laugh, scream, or cry.