I am pumped full of steroids right now and the psychosis that they cause is absolutely terrifying.
As I attempt to sleep, impossibly real images flood my brain. A family member, head cracked and bleeding on the ground. My friends, unaware of the truck barreling towards then. And me, screaming with no words to come out.
In each bizarre pre-sleep dream, I am helpless. I am flailing.
The most common image this drug seems to recall is a time a few years back for a similar issue. My body was splayed out on the hospital bed and I knew I was very ill. The nurses called the doctors in and my body was pushed full of medicines. The needles poked my body without warning. They held my hands back as I flailed.
I was pinned. I was out of control.
* * *
I have tried very hard to regain control of my life since I moved back to California in January. I've made changes in real and serious ways. I'm beginning to train for a half marathon. I have tried to take control
, to follow the leader and to let that leader be me.
I cannot stress how grateful I am to all those who stuck by me back when I fucking sucked. Even more so, I'm grateful to you, the ones who didn't let me off the hook. Who gave me shit and then said "There's something you may want to think about."
I wouldn't have had a blissful 3 months without a flare-up if I hadn't indeed made those changes.
But this is a step back. This is a reminder I am not in control of the diseases that plague me. This is a reminder that for the rest of my life, I will have to fight for that control. I'll have to keep doing what I am doing, even though it pains me to know that I will never truly be fixed.
Tonight, I am pinned. All I can do is take a deep breath and pay attention.
To be here, now.