Sensitivity has me by the ass. I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I’m still here in the garden motel. I’m still an outpatient as far as the Sz School is concerned. It’s been weeks, actually a couple months, I think, since I checked in with you last. My wife was able to bring up one of the kittens from home when she visited a week ago. His name is Georgie (of course) and he is cuddling with me as I write this. I feel such a deep love for him, that it brings tears to my eyes instantly if I think about it too much. I think about Georgie’s inherent innocence, mostly, and of course that he is just adorable and funny and has his own individual personality. That he has unconditional love for me.
I have to put him in his cage when housekeeping comes. It’s part of the hotel’s policy, and I understand why. The ten-hour trip my wife made to bring him here, by car… it was extremely difficult for me to even think about Georgie being in the cage that long. But supposedly he did fine. I never want him to be uncomfortable, and yesterday when he and I were playing, I scared him by accident pretending I was a big monster honing in from above who would kiss and tickle him once I came close enough. I felt horrible when he saw me hovering above him and he shuffled as quickly as he could off the desk he was lying on, knocking over the computer and scurrying under the bed in complete fear.
I thought of my parents, when they’d do that kind of stuff to me.
A few weeks ago, I saw Steve at the outpatient house. He had called, asking if we could meet up and if I could write down some of the inspirational audio books I’ve read for him. I wrote him a three-page list, and he was grateful to receive it, as I heard from another outpatient whom Steve had told excitedly.
I already don’t feel that this writing session is going well. Things are hard today, and I want to go home. I have to take the bus to the outpatient office to pick up my weekend meds in an hour or so. Oh, God.
The family is being extremely unreasonable. I don’t want to even write about it. I’ll leave it for my wife’s book.
The keys on this laptop are falling off and I am plain uncomfortable. I was disappointed when the sun came out which is not a good sign. I feel like I am forcing this writing.
Actually, I’m sorry to my readers, but I am going to stop where I am now, and just listen to my iPod and finish the rest of my sodas. I might not be able to get anymore until next week. I have been drinking a case a day and I know that’s not healthy. I don’t want to meditate. I want to be with my wife, and have this all be over with. Am I giving you enough details? Rather, I hope I am painting you enough of the picture of what this life is like, with the ups and downs, and the confusion, and the love, and the hatred, even the black and the white. My mind is blank now. I’ve got to go now. Things are really hard now. I don’t want to force this writing, though possibly by forcing things out, it might show. I mean in a good way. Most of my life is forced (or enforced). This might help you and me. It isn’t easy, and things in general do not always have to flow with ease. That’s just the way it is.
Boy, this was hard. I hope I made it good.