The Parasitic Twin That Is My Brain

Having been forcefed a steady diet of “Life is what you make it” and “it’s all how you look at things…” I have decided I am not mentally ill at all. Nope. I had a twin in the womb but it was parasitic and attached itself to my brain, so I get all the mood swings and anxieties of two people in one neat little package.

Okay, maybe I’m not that far gone, but the comparison isn’t wrong, if you consider mental illness the parasitic twin that is sucking the life out of you no matter how hard you try. And it can’t be removed due to complications that would result in your death so your only option is to LIVE WITH IT.

Which is the equivalent of asking someone how they want to die- gun, knife, noose. You’re dead no matter what you choose so it’s not even a matter of having an option.

My parasitic twin has been behaving itself the last  2 nights (it’s the anxiety, sleep disturbance, and dreams acting out like brats) , but that will come to a halt now that I have exhausted my Cymbalta 30 mg stash and will no longer be able to do the split dose. I have yet to figure out how to empty the capsule so I am getting the same amount and I’m not sure I want to tempt fate. I take the powder, even mixed in something, and have a reaction to one of the buffers or additives they use…Well, I don’t want it to get worse.

I stopped yesterday and asked the pharmacy lady about the “split dose doesn’t make a difference”. She was, of course, hesitant to say a word because disagreeing with doctors, even in a generality, is as bad as treason and you may be shot to death with spiked pickles. She said six times to go talk to him because everyone’s chemistry is different. Then she added quietly, “Talk to him again and if he won’t listen…Get a second opinion.”

So much can be said without really saying anything directly.

I was exhausted yesterday after the dish experience. Yet bedtime came and it still took almost two hours to drift off. Dreams. More dreams. My kid waking me to climb in my bed. More dreams. Wake up. Wake up again. I barely got up in time to get the trash out at the curb because they can come between 8 or noon and you can’t leave trash out overnight…I was relieved to not have any dish agenda, though I did choose to address a small agenda on that front. Returned the FedEx thing for R and got a few things (for cleaning, oh joy) at Dollar Tree. That was enough of the dish for me.

Yesterday was a humidity laden inferno. Today has been beautifully gray, wet, and cooool. Still, cat fur is sticking to me. Makes me ponder shaving them all and claiming they are Sphinx cats….Uggh, no those things are frightening.

So, yeah…My brain aka parasitic twin aka mental illness and I are just gonna zone out for the evening. I want so desperately to write…Yet the block is back and my attention is skewered and I’m…GRRRRR. Ready to stab very long pins into my voodoo doll. Being artistic yet not being able to express it is the tenth circle of hell Dante never mentioned. I mean, I can’t even chase my tail in circles with written drivel. I’ve got nothing.

My kingdom for some inspiration. But then, it’s not entirely out of the norm for me. My writing usually runs fall and winter (my version of hibernation, I guess) and dies off for spring and summer. Should have seen it coming, but much like the depression that didn’t hit until after Christmas and sucker punched me like a dozen ninjas…You can prepare but you never really see any of it coming.

Probably because I have that fecking parasitic twin mental illness blocking all the space in my head.

7 Responses to “The Parasitic Twin That Is My Brain”

  1. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the parallel you use for mental illness. If I steal it in the future, you will get FULL credit for it. X

  2. That’s quite twintense, dude.

  3. Or maybe twintessential. Twinteresting. OK OK I’m shutting up now ;D

  4. Twinception. Ugh *shoots self*

  5. I know, I have this twinkle in my eye….

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