Today, I took my ADD morning meds. I drank a cup of half-caf coffee. Then, I drank another. And then, on my way to my coffee date, I had another coffee. Once I got to the coffee shop, the barista thought I said half and half, not half-caf. I ordered a large, I didn’t correct her when I noticed she hadn’t heard me. I probably had at least 3 shots of espresso. I went home, I had maybe 4 more cups of half-caf. I took my afternoon ADD meds, before noon. I went to therapy, but stopped by Starbucks and grabbed a half-caf from there. I went home, took a nap, got up, poured another cup. Damn, coffee rules my dang life! I also made another pot of coffee.
I messed up. I messed up when I let my social anxiety take over. When I didn’t correct the barista, I knew my day was going to be absolute shit day. Why? Because caffeine is one of the things that you can do that induces anxiety. Too much sugar? Anxiety. Too much exercise? Anxiety. Absolutely anything that increases your heart rate? Guess what, anxiety.
The unable to sit still, the unable to focus, the dreadful migraine. It pushed me over the edge of being able to function. I laid down, and while I didn’t actually fall asleep, I daydreamed my headache and anxiety away. When I got up, I felt at peace. Ready to tackle the rest of my day.
I went outside to smoke a cigarette, where I currently am. When I finished, I just looked inside. Wondering, what was I going to do after my cigarette… I was going to do something. “Oh, yeah. Get more coffee.” I looked down, my coffee mug still full. God, I swear I’m worse than a Gilmore Girl! Thank goodness this is half-caf. Which I’m pretty sure Luke was secretly giving Loralei all those years.
My to-do list popped into my head. I thought, oh, I should work on that! Then, I realized that’d mean leaving my patio. Going inside. Sitting at my messy table. Most importantly, not smoking. Then, I looked at the time. Well, shit. It was 5:30pm. The anxiety back in a flash, “You’re a fucking failure.” The depression to the defense, “Just do it tomorrow morning.” The realization, I have plans tomorrow. I need to do these things now, I needed to do them weeks ago. Do I put them off another day? Another two days? Or do I bring my stuff outside and do it outside, since I’m so desperately dependent on my smoking addiction. Which has taken a turn for the worst, 2 lovely packs a day. Sometimes, 2 1/2. The stress from last week got to me, the smoking from last week never quit.
Now, I sit here. Outside. Debating whether to light another up. I’m hungry, my ADD medication isn’t working. I have about 5 other stories plus 10 drawings and the random urge to sew all taking up my mind. Everything. At once. Which do I do first? Do I write the letter to my future boyfriend, or do I write about my recovery week? Maybe I should draw some more as words have been difficult for me lately.
I think I’ll just take my dog for a walk, he’d like that. I’d like that.