…though I’ve barely done a thing all day. Nor can I channel my anxiousness into art or music or anything, because my mind feels like a flock of scared pigeons flapping in every imaginable direction as a swarm of locusts descends to take their place. I woke up at 6 AM with a skull crushing headache and a room full of concentric flashing circles, which I had an uncontrollable urge to vomit in. Eric was awesome enough to quickly hand me an empty shopping bag and even go out to get medicine, for which I am appreciative. But this pretty much set the stage for the day. From there on out, well, another mental health blogger I’m online friends with may or may not be dead and I don’t know what I can do, as this person is in another country. And another artist who’s worked with the World War 3 collective has been falsely branded a terrorist by the Egyptian media and is in hiding, though he’s committed no violence. And the passing of Maya Angelou, while perhaps a little more natural for a person of 86, just serves as one more thing to make a sad day just that much sadder.
So I dunno, at the moment I just can’t deal anymore today. I can’t be “productive” or “proactive” or “creative” at the moment. I think I just need to take my Klonopin early and sleep till it’s time for art therapy in the morning, maybe I’ll have some good news regarding this stuff, or at least the physical and mental energy to deal with things a little better.