Today, I was supposed to meet up with Roos in Amsterdam, to pick up her passport and then go shopping. I was really looking forward to it because I haven't seen Roos for a while, haven been to Amsterdam for even longer, and haven't really been shopping much lately either.
Taking into account the situation I've been in for the past six months or so now (manic depression... or something), this is actually quite an ambitious plan, as I haven't been able to get much further than the basketball court without experiencing major anxiety attacks. I haven't been able to go to school, go visit my father in Zaandam, or attend any parties. Because of my love for my friend Roos, the city of Amsterdam, and shopping for clothes (yes, I'm a consumer whore), I refused to give in to the possibility of anxiety that might overcome me, though. I decided to give it a shot and try to maintain a right set of mind.
I woke up right on time, without setting the alarm clock or the sound of my cellular phone. There was only one little problem — I was hypervetilating. Perhaps because I was dreaming about people wanting to stab me with knifes. I decided the dream had been the cause and to forget about it, go make some breakfast and put on my tux and tie.
Not much later, Roos called to tell me she was awake (of which she seemed surprisingly happy and proud). I kind of killed the moment for her by telling her I was already dressed and set to go. We agreed to meet up at a certain location close to Amsterdam CS at 13:30 P.M. This left me with some time to spare, so I made some coffee for my mom (who was still fast asleep), and checked some of my favorite weblogs. After that, I put on my jacket and went on my way.
I got on the tram, and soon, anxiety started mounting, but it was very manageable (I'm becoming a heavyweight in it). I arrived at The Hague CS, and got on the train to Leiden-Amsterdam. In the train, I started to get the sense of weakness, detachment (lack of sensation) and tiredness that comes with them darn' anxiety attacks. I tried to manage by setting my mind off of things. This is kind of hard when you've got nothing to do, but I managed pretty well anyway... untill the first stop (Leiden Centraal) that is.
After the doors closed at Leiden, and we headed for Schiphol Airport, tension mounted too high. Eek! — way too high. I took a walk to desperately distract myself from my own mind. This worked a little, but didn't leave me with the sensation one would expect to have on a nice day out with a friend. I send Roos an SMS that I was very sorry, but that I was too nervous and was heading home again. She send back a message expressing it was alright and that she'll be in The Hague next week — we'll meet up then.
I got out of the train at Schiphol Airport, walked around a bit, pretty much lost entirely (and I don't mean locally challenged
). I got on the train back to The Hague, which was comforting thought, but didn't seem to get the C9H13O3N and C10H12N2O — that were raging through my body — down... at all.
Nomatter how comfortable the forsight of my home and bed I thought should be, the anxiety was getting worse — shaking limbs, dry mouth, head rushes — the whole deal. This requested more drastic measurements. I decided to do some obsessive counting. Not something I would normally do, but worth a try this time, I figured. I sensed it giving some direction to my stream of thought, but not a very steady one. I needed something that would actually require focus (I can count while reading a book, so that's not going to help much).
I decided to write a website — at least the markup of it — in my head, and consider all possibilities I know of and then some, for every decision there was to make. I think it sounds a bit sick, and even pondered should I even be doing this?
for a minute, but decided to continue and daydream myself a website...
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Miracle cure, anyone? I sort of woke up to reality (whatever that is), realizing I had been doing some serious creative stuff, and more importantly, I had been unaware of my myself and my surroundings for several minutes (which is good when you can't handle any of external sensations). Hell, even my mouth had liquid in it, and my hands weren't trembling half as hard.
I went back to my pseudo-dreamworld, and decided to write about this sensational discovery — slash — experience. That's right, it's the second time I'm writing this. I have already written this in my mind. Seeing as I'm writing about already having written this, and therefor already wrote that I already wrote this, makes this sort of a paradox... I think, thought.
Anyway, I had already found some therapeutic value in the upkeep of this very weblog. First of all, I noticed that writing can (sometimes) guide my stream of thought, and set my mind off of things and back on another (one I can follow). Later on I discovered that the reading back of past entries can sometimes answer questions that are real at present time. I seem to have answers, and write them down at times, but somehow am not fully aware of it (perhaps because I haven't understood the question fully yet), at the time.
Today, I found out the therapeutic value of weblogging in the meat world. Ofcourse I've realized before that mankind has been using writing as a tool to get a mind around things — frankly, that might be the reason we invented written language in the first place — but this would never work for me for several reasons. The main reason is that a pen (or any other conservative writing tool) doesn't comply with my way of thinking. My hand writing can't keep up with my thoughts by a long shot (typing comes closer), and I re-think a lot — almost everything — and you can't undo
with a pen. There's equivalents, but they're too slow. Writing in my mind has proven itself to be a proper solution. I'm dyslexic.
The train stopped at The Hague CS, and I got out. Tension immediately started mounting again, but maintained manageable, and even dropped again when I decided to walk home rather than to take the tram. The weather was terrible, but I didn't mind too much as the sensation of wet and cold was stronger than that of anxiety and detachment.
Halfway home I had managed to relax to a point where's it's not entirely unpleasant to do some shopping, so I went to Plato and got rid of this CD coupon I'd been carrying with me by purchasing N · E · R · D's In Search Of ... [UK] (awesome album). I also went to Footlocker for a basketball outfit, but that was less of a success (I like the outfits I have better than the ones they were offering).
Mikey just asked me to join him to his basketball training at Jumpers. Enrique is going, and I'd love to join them, but I don't think that'd be a very wise thing to do. I don't think I'm going to guitar ensemble tonight either (not that this is going to surprise anyone — I haven't been there for months).
Well, that's about it, I guess. I'm a bit tired, but not feeling too bad at all. I look forward to meeting up with Roos closer to home, and joining Mikey and Enrique when they'll play on the basketball court nearby — gotta' take little steps to keep from fallin'.
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