Just Call Me Patsy 'Cause I'm CRAZY!

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After completing what was hands-down the hardest semester I've had since going back to school, I should've relished my 2 week break before summer semester: no more dates with MSNBC at 5 a.m. to catch all my news shows before spending all day on campus; no more finishing papers at the last minute (which sometimes cut into my 5 a.m. news shows); no more reading so much Norton's Anthology that my eyes are permanently damaged (no really, I think they are! I need to make an appointment with the eye doctor), and typing so much that I have chronic neck pain (no really, I did see a doctor about that); no more Lesley Roessing, the worst professor I have ever had period (you can tell her if you know her, I already have). Besides, didn't I already do all this crap before? Like in 1990 when I started USC and... oh, yeah, flunked out 3 semesters later in 1992 because I didn't do any of those things (but I had a damn good time doing nothing). My bad. But I did make up for all my slacker ways when I moved to Atlanta and went to AIA, where my GPA was quite exemplary, thank you very much. But anyway, I worked really hard this past semester and deserved a nice, relaxing, peaceful 2 week hiatus. But that is not what I got.
You know how schizophrenics or bipolars sometimes stop taking their meds because they feel normal? Only they feel normal because they're taking medication, and as soon as they quit taking it they get all wonky again. Well let's just say I got a little wonky.
First I should probably state that I'm neither bipolar or schizophrenic, but I do take Celexa for anxiety. For years I felt I needed something to mellow me out because I was always on edge, and when I first started back to school I really knew I needed something when I started sobbing in class because I didn't understand statistics and felt so overwhelmed. Not very manly, so good thing they make medicine for it. So I saw my doctor (or quack, as Amy refers to him) and have had a happy, mellow relationship with Celexa for a couple of years. That is, until my 2 week vacation.
I'll just go ahead and admit it: I'm lazy. And I have a touch of OCD, so my routine is always the same: when the alarm goes off and I get up at 5:00, I shuffle into the kitchen to get coffee and take my happy pill right away. But it's not just that one pill, I also take a vitamin and sometimes a fish oil pill to help the ol' memory. Now I know it sounds ridiculous, but I get tired of taking pills everyday. Buddha forbid I ever have a chronic illness that requires me to take 70 pills a day, 'cause that ain't happenin'. Three pills are apparently my limit. To make a long story short, I ran out of vitamins and fish oil, and when I finished the semester I decided to take a break on the Celexa and revert to my default, unmedicated state. Damn. There's a reason those schizos who go off their meds end up killing someone: sometimes au naturel is just plain crazy.
It took about a week for the signs to appear that I was coming unhinged. I once left my meds in Atlanta during the middle of a semester, and after just a couple of days could feel myself losing it, but I guess being on break helped slow the craziness this time. Anyway, the least serious of my symptoms was anger; I could feel my temper getting shorter and shorter. But remember, I'm on break with nothing to do except watch Netflix and drink box wine and sleep, so what the hell do I have to be angry about? Yeah, I don't know either, but there it was rearing its ugly head anyway. My list of people to kill or maim grew longer and longer. I have been able to catch up on 24 on Netflix, so that's good, the only problem is trying to stay awake. My sleep is all screwed up. I'm staying up later than usual, sometimes I go to bed between 12 and 2, but I only sleep about 3 hours and then I'm up. WTH? I love to sleep, but I can't. I don't know if it's a side effect of going cold turkey with the happy pills or the untreated anxiety that's crept back in, but I don't sleep at night and can't stay awake during the day. I feel like Carrie when Big backed out of their wedding and she went to Mexico and just slept for days. That's all I want to do. Could there have been a gayer reference? Good lord. I wonder if there's an anti-anxiety/ testosterone combo pill? And you know how it is when you don't sleep, everything is just out of balance. I think that might be why I'm having eye problems, too, or maybe that's just from squinting at the keys on my BlackBerry.
But the overwhelming and uncontrollable emotions are the biggest sign that I might be going crazy. I decided to start P90X again and try to get into a shape other than fat blob, but I barely made it through the first day because I was too preoccupied with crying and telling myself what a fat, weak loser I was to concentrate on push ups. In what should have been a instance of joy, Jarrod was chosen for Honor Band and had a concert at my college last week, and I could barely hold the camcorder still because I was so overwhelmed with a mixture of pride and of regret remembering what it was like being in All-State band when I wasn't much older than he is. And while those were very real emotions for me, the finale of Smallville almost killed me.
I have loved Smallville for years. I started watching about 7 years ago, and though I'm not one of those over-the-top fanboys like Sheldon and the gang, I have grown to love Clark, Chloe, Lois, Oliver, Martha and Jonathan, Tess, Lana, and even Lex. And after 10 years it ended. I cried for 2 hours during the finale, and I mourned for 3 days afterward. This will get its own entry later.
Things that make me weepy (this week):

• "Firework" by Katy Perry

• "Be Prepared" from The Lion King soundtrack

• The Hunger Games (about kids forced to fight in a deathmatch)

• Judi Dench singing "Send in the Clowns"

An abbreviated list to be sure, and one which can grow exponentially. But for now, I've been up since before 3 a.m., I've drank much coffee and listened to the "Songs that make me cry" playlist on my iPod, and now I must go take my crazy pill and go to sleep and maybe wake up a little less fragile.