Coffee, and Other Things that make me Scream Quietly to Myself
I have a really fun debilitating anxiety/panic disorder for which I take a hefty daily dose of delicious, nutritious anxiety meds, and for the most part I now lead what passes for a normal life for a member of my family, but when I mistake the caff for decaf and down a very large cup of extra-strong French roast, you can pretty much pretend that Gabapentin, deep breathing and plenty of sleep were never invented. This is why I didn’t do drugs in college: I’m so hypersensitive to even mild mind-altering chemicals that they cause me to utterly freak out, among other nasty effects. I’m not saying I ever smoked pot, because you know, the guv’mint is listening in, but if I ever DID, everyone else would be fine, but my reaction would range (depending on how many tokes) from panic to, oh I don’t know, lets just for fun say my arms and legs would totally stop working and my friends would have to carry me back up to my room, where I’d have a hallucination of my friend Marti as a cardboard cutout on a 2D construction paper background with little cut-out stars twinkling around her like an angel’s sparkling halo.
It’s been a long day.