I remember the morning my dad came and picked me up from my mom's house vividly. I had woken up extra early because i wanted to get a bit of skateboarding in before I had to go back to Georgia....back to the yelling...and now back to a job I was almost certain I wouldn't be able to handle. I truly felt like my dad was asking me to run a marathon without any fucking legs. I didn't see how I was expected to do this, but I had no choice. We arrived in my cousin's driveway and I was in full panic.
"This is your cousin Darwin." My dad said as Darwin walked outside and waved hello. It seems almost comical explaining this situation because there was technically nothing "wrong" or "dangerous" about this situation . It was just two people meeting. But for my central nervous system that had been hijacked and gone completley haywire, it was like I was meeting Freddy Kruegar and was about to have to fight to the death. My dad drove off and it was just me and ol' "Freddy". There was no way small talk was about to happen so I did the only thing I could and that was try to explain to him that I wasn't well. I apologized ahead of time if I didn't understand what he was saying or if I stuttered a lot. I just told him the medication I used to take messed me up.
"It's ok man, I understand that people get into drugs and stuff. Im glad you're off of them now though." he said in an understanding tone.
We got in his truck and drove the Black Land of Mordor, aka the Permits office so I could get a fishing license. How was I supposed to walk in that office and answer questions while my eyes were bulging out of my sockets and I couldn't understand anything??
For those who aren't in withdrawal ( I don't feel the need to explain this to you guys), please keep in mind that I hadn't always been like this. I used to have attractive girlfriends, made friends fairly easily, rocked out job interviews, and would perform music for random people in the street for fun. So the fact that riding in a passenger seat with my cousin and talking to a secretary in an office was TERRIFYING is not normal! Somehow I got through it though with my big, stupid pupils and shaky voice.
Afterward, he dropped me back off at my dad's house where I grabbed my guitar and began to practice in a feeble attempt to feel some comfort. God why was this happening to me? I had already suffered those 7 long hard months of tapering and these five months of being completely off the meds had only been harder. I wanted to die. This fight didn't seem worth it and I ached for death. Fortunately, practicing guitar continued to be an escape from my suicidal thoughts. I tried to keep telling myself that one day this would all just feel like a bad dream and that my angst would soon be replaced with profound joy. I remembered what I once heard my mom say years back "If you're going through hell, keep going" which I now know is a quote from Winston Churchill. I drew a bit of strength from this and just thought to myself "one day"...