flagrant

his name is sharon-- a standard hebrew name -- from israel, near haifa.

"ah, the orange groves," i said, and my neighbor's eyes lit up. "i went there once. a friend and i wanted to go to egypt but the only overnight boat from limassol was going to israel."

"i remember we ate these amazing olives in haifa-- both black and green. they were enormous-- even bigger than eggs. my friend automatically refused at first, and i was annoyed because they were just incredible... a man drove us up into the mountains for a view of the harbor and israeli coast. it was eerie because we also got to see lebanon and a few large ships... an old woman invited us inside her home and served cake which seemed to be completely made out of seeds. it was horrible-- we still talk about it. it was like a square of one million grains of sand completely held together with syrup. maybe it was sephardic? or semolina and honey?"

he nodded and nodded, clearly understanding everything i said.

"all of the surfers there... the endless miles of beaches. it's funny how i had never really associated israel with its golden mediterranean coastline before arriving in haifa that day."

i didn't know what to say.
that wasn't the point.

i can't stop your upcoming year, neighbor.
i can't say or do anything to stave off your emotional whirlwind.
this is what your temporary occupation is attempting to shut out.
AND it's not very successful, i gather, given its level of life.

speaking of going mad...

a few days ago, [my neighbor who has lung cancer] purposely ruined his solid oak front door by painting it white. later, the entire surface of the door was gouged and splintered because he had scraped off the paint with a small knife. later still, he nailed incomprehensible notes into the surface and wrote "get out" all over the door jamb with a black marker.

this morning it has become apparent that he has spray painted religious symbols all over the inside walls of his home, and shovels of dirt from outside have been scattered around the floor of the living room. how do i know this? well, the front door is now missing and, by best guestimate, the windows will go next.

AND: this neighbor is the type who will approach, but is not approachable. i don't know his name or what language he speaks. people do stop by to visit every few days.

AND, AND: if continuing to sit here, my list of "reasons i'm going to hell" will need a three-ring binder. i know i am supposed to intervene or have made contact by now, in some regard-- or at least have an idea of what to or not to do.

consider: i mean, this must be stopped-- i am thoroughly enjoying my psychosis and this guy is making my behavior look normal.

out of the two choices vying for worst place, it was obviously senseless to wince over bending toward anything other than the predicament. throwing wet lips around south korea is as bad as The Good can get. since Z no longer renders me breathless, and the best of the worst was certain to still hurt, i should have flown to seoul.

oh, but no. the order stated to remain home and investigate the strange world where 'resting while imbalanced' has a huge edge over 'attending to responsibility regardless of issue.' this was an uncomfortably fat destination-- now blocked off in total. that clenched-up retraction of esteem crossed eyes when acknowledging a nod to the plushest of plush-- but the fact it was plush concrete meant what?

seoul, too, suggests ease. rewarding vocal sarcasm with an enviable salary is like paying invalid friend chuck to sloppily overeat calorie-laden take out. all options, even drudgery and ailment, eventually bind to these conflicts of excess. it's work, dammit, but it must be reduced to a state of relaxation. consider the transpacific commute and perpetually disrupted connection in narita. consider the stress of maneuvering a luxurious 5-series rental car from incheon through 'ordinary' street chaos to gangnam. consider how fantastic this needs to look since i'm the dumbass who arranges these tickets to hell.

AND so, instead of donning a cartoon voice which owns triangular hair, wednesday was spent reversing an akathisia-like experience forced by sick packaged concerns.

RULE: refuse to hurt on anything other than my own terms.

still no radical change in thought, rigidity, or mood.


perhaps, little things:
- answered the phone (someone wants me to apply for a job)
- changed my clothes (been stuck in identical multiples of the same outfit)
- went inside two stores
- drove straight to a daily destination (typically takes 3 hours of ocd/friction)


resident doctor #4: "you're beating zyprexa."
me: "no, i don't think this medicine is getting into my body."
me: "nope... still waiting for it to strike."


my ordinary existence with anorexia involves furious resistance to a variety of libidos. it is normal to automatically ignore hunger and sleep, so why am i expecting to notice any increase in these things *and* think they will be uncontrollable?

"'it won't' but be prepared for 'when it does.'"
-- as a philosophy, this isn't departing soon.


at 17.5mg of Z, the 'experience which was intended to be challenged' actually arrived at a much lower dose several weeks ago. i know this but keep watching [AND will say it one thousand times, but i remain paranoid that Z will change me without my involvement.]

- postponed a trip to stay home and take care of myself
- need to find a way to sleep more than 1 1/2 out of each 48 hours
- not invested in repositioning responsibility, but will

[... too luxurious]
[... too fat of me]

now the sick's just sicker and vomity, of course.

"it's as though the mechanism of Z knows exactly what it's aiming for. after getting locked into its scope, i feel that inarticulate part of myself tighten up a little bit. when Z finally does fire, well holy crap, i know i'm dead... but just as it nears and i am about to get struck, it surprisingly veers off in the wrong direction. unlike when we tried effexor... though it made it instantly worse, effexor went right up to anorexia and got involved."

there are only minimal side effects and no real reason to stop with the Z. resident doctor #4 doesn't want me to fear an agenda, either-- his goal is to be transparent with how my treatment will proceed. the plan is not to let Z do the work alone-- hopefully it can facilitate a way and the two of us can approach anorexia.

also, attending the 'general' partial hospitalization program at cedars is in the future, but they require me to be actively involved in eating disorder treatment while in attendance. what *exactly* that means, is unclear. (resident doctor #4 considers himself my 'treatment' for eating disorders, but cedars may want a structure greater than one psychiatrist.) we have connected with the head of the eating disorder program at ucla (strober) and... and... i don't know... intend to make it look like my 'eating disorder treatment' with resident doctor #4 is more official because we have a highly regarded doctor as our mentor, perhaps?

AND, i am delusional again-- since i feel the need to lose weight before the three of us gather for our appointment. how does the non-delusional side work? i am supposed to meet with a world famous doctor who has consulted or treated the most severe cases of anorexia and act as though my case is worth his attention?

questioned the term psychosis last week. though i have jokingly referred to a few people who insist i finance their lives as The Bugs, the bites on my body are real. since resident doctor #4 has seen the marks, what about this is considered delusional?

the insects and bites are not necessarily delusional. the anxiety experienced, and subsequent behavior was considered irrational.

after spending a few weeks in an over the top state of cleaning and spraying, the situation with the (real) bugs wasn't coming to an end-- how was i supposed to act? calm? why should i have remained calm? these bugs were tiny-- virtually invisible -- and it was unclear as to where they were coming from. since there was no obvious direction to take-- why not be intricate in the attempt at extermination?

had i allowed the bites, and refused to take myself to the emergency room on the days there were frightening allergic reactions, wouldn't that have been considered a problem?

[skip ahead a few more days]

"if the situation with The Bugs is not a psychosis... then it's very probable this is a paresthesia stemming from malnutrition," says resident doctor #4.


new goal #1: take a quarter of a multivitamin daily.
problems with goal #1: far too many concerns, much too complicated to list.

new goal #2: increase nightly zyprexa to three 5mg tabs + 2.5mg in the morning.
problems with goal #2: none-- at 17.5mg of vitamin Z i still have insomnia.

The Bugs are back/ AND bitch isn't the right word for one divorced from the previous swarm. this one has been financially intrusive enough to have left a speck.

needle, tweezers... paper clip?
contort the torso.
balance a makeup mirror between teeth.

RITUAL: question the nutritional value of shiseido.
RULE: must distract when gouging back.

name the attractively wet red bead zillow/ wince not at the blood, but at unclean fingertips.

consider: this poor strategy for poison control.

consider: killing The Bugs with the word NO.

i'm being sickened, seeing how Z fattens depression.

odd.
this is all a bit backwards.
good.



my hands hurt, and breathing is restricted in that a full sentence will be spoken with pause or cough. i think resident doctor #4 expects me to bitch about every minor influence Z allows-- both the bad and worse. absolutely not. outwardly, except for noticeable physical issues like this stuttered breathing, i will never reveal any indication or consequence of Z.



heavily pinned under this medicine? yes. for a few weeks? i guess. resident doctor #4 is out of the office on the saturday after thanksgiving, but has said, "this will be rough but there is nothing to worry about." though anorexia is proving to be much stronger than Z, i incorrectly fear his agenda. Z has neither been successful at romancing inflexibility and discomfort, nor has it inspired any intensity of libido. i am confident it cannot.

i have a responsibility to be in germany a few days from now. did he forget? what about the two days arranged to be in south korea? also, thanksgiving involves a biodiversity endeavor in australia and sailing to new caledonia.

though only australia interferes with our schedule, resident doctor #4 was told of these trips months ago. how does one approach this, considering the current homework is to *ignore all responsibility* and take the damn zyprexa?

Z isn't coming close to touching the main vein of the problem.
the sense is that it acts as a slight reinforcement.

no driving.
no vacuuming.
no need to lift a finger.

"your homework is to learn how to rest... to feel this pill."
"this is some of the hardest work you will ever do."



this amount of medication will incapacitate me physically.
at 10mg a day, with the ativan, Z is expected to break illness.

or,
consider: 'make her 'too inebriated' so she will begin to refuse her rigidity?'

i know me
AND anorexia doesn't quite work like that.

saturday, a resident doctor #4 day:
he said i am too sick for eating disorder treatment
AND that my newest bug bites are a psychosis.

consider:
- invalid friend chuck's bites are real
- the blood seeping through this shirt is real
- the prescription cream from the surgical dermatologist is real
or,
- 'bug bites' are a great metaphor (attacking illness, getting under skin)
- he needs me to shut up about lesions and return to abstract contemplation



what you missed:

zyprexa @ 2.5mg with an ativan chaser.
then,
zyprexa @ 2.5mg with an ativan each morning and evening.
then,
zyprexa @ 5mg with an ativan each morning and evening.

[if this is not obvious, my weight is down.]



how resident doctor #4 has decided to proceed:

zyprexa @ 7.5mg each evening
add another 2.5mg in the morning
AND add an afternoon ativan to the mix.

[oh, holy holy crap-- is my grip that strong?]

"i'm so excited," i said to him, laughing for at least forty seconds too long.