Output 31—Dispatches from the Med Train

Choo CHOOOOOOO (sorry).

I haven’t posted an update on my nervous breakdown (I refuse to call it anything less glamorous) lately.

Things are moving in a better direction, for sure. In fact my therapist and my psych doctor both mentioned how much less “in-crisis” I seem.

And it’s true. Thanks to the slow ramp-up of meds (I’ve gone from 150 mg of mood stabilizer to 450 over the course of several weeks, and this week I also started a non-stimulant medication for ADHD), I no longer feel afraid to leave the house because I might lose my shit (I did that, for real, in a parking garage a few weeks ago and I’m lucky security didn’t find me, because I’m pretty sure someone called them); I no longer wake up too early and spend 1-3 hours silently freaking out over my hopeless life; I am still on the brink of financial disaster but it’s not constantly gnawing at me. I think the fact that I navigated a weekend vacation and didn’t have an anxiety attack until I realized I had lost my phone at the rental car return (and that’s a perfectly acceptable reason to have an anxiety attack) proves that I am “getting better."

Also I can’t remember the last time I just spent the day crying (it wasn’t that long ago. It just seems distant).

But I’m not out of the woods yet. I still don’t know what will happen with tattooing. I have nearly decided to “get real” and throw in the towel AGAIN, but I want to wait until the ADHD meds kick in. Because they aren’t the stimulant variety, that will take a couple of weeks. Right now, I can’t imagine going back to work at the tattoo shop. It’s still an unscalable wall in my mind, and I’m going to have to do some EDMR around that (my therapist agrees) because that was some serious f’ing trauma I experienced.

The kicker, though, is that I now realize why I tattooed poorly, even after months of training—it’s because I dislike the process of tattooing. It takes precision, not just the application, but everything before and after the application—the whole routine of sizing, stenciling, cleaning, mixing inks, keeping my tray clean and clutter-free—all of this stuff drives me up a wall because slow, methodical, and precise are qualities I have NEVER possessed, nor have I ever been good at planning when it comes to art. Tattooing bores the shit out of me because it’s slow and for me, it’s dull as dishwater. And every criticism I sustained as an apprentice had to do with trying to go too fast and get things over with as quickly as possible.

So basically, I do not possess the attention span to be a tattoo artist. But that’s one reason I’m where I am—my inability to concentrate. My “chaotic energy." But I can’t make a decision because hopefully, that’s not the end of my story. I know lots of people who started taking meds for ADHD and testify that the difference is extreme and noticeable—“So this is what it feels like to be normal” kind of shit. And if that is coming for me (I hope I hope I hope) it’s possible that in a few weeks, I won’t even remember why I was so hopeless.

And of course the other reason I don’t want to make a final decision, as tempted as I am (as always) to cut my losses and move on, is that I feel I would be taking a giant juicy shit not only on a completely “this never happens” opportunity, but also on the kindness of the people who gave it to me. And that’s really hard. There’s some superstition there as well—I am a very skeptical person and the mere mention of fate or destiny or “leap and the net will appear” really gets me riled up… but on the other hand, what if Julia Campbell is right and walking away from tattooing would be tantamount to giving “GOD” the middle finger (and dammit, WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO USE THAT WORD??? I hated it in AA, too. It would be just as easy to use a different one. Self-improvement has it out for me….).

And if I’m not going to tattoo… WTF AM I GOING TO DO TO EARN MONEY after I have taken giant bipolar shits all over MOST of my past jobs?

Never mind… I can’t think about that now. Or about the boyfriend I haven’t seen in 3 weeks because he’s had it up to here with my unpredictable crap (and also I had Covid).

But I am grateful that none of these currently confounding issues has me panicked. I’m learning patience. And all of my meds have a side effect of lowered blood pressure, so I am experiencing what it’s like to be physically relaxed, maybe for the first time ever. And I’m sleepy. But as a lifelong insomniac with no job, being sleepy is a godsend. At least for now.