The neighbors . . . as I knew, it wasn’t my baseline level of psychosis. Starting in September, things really started to die down. I picked up a programming book but couldn’t spend more than four hours at it for four nights straight without melting down. My last good job opportunity, confirmed ruined by another neighbor, the first interview? I fell asleep on the sofa at 10:30am and the computer woke me up. The fourth? It felt my life was unraveling. I couldn’t remember what I did with each day, at the end, things were so jumbled. My neighbors fed the stress for years.
Stress tolerance. I made an appointment with the shrink at the LPRN’s to see if he has any ideas. The pills are plainly off.
Following the path with Elaine, as steered by my emotions and desires for that half of the week, seems the smart thing to do. I’ve given you what amounts to one reason and you won’t accept it. I’m very lonely and Elaine makes things worse, if anything. Her little displays through the glass that I could be with her make me feel like a primitive animal at the zoo and, remembering them later, like nothing being cut into slices.
I see the shrink on the 14th, Hopefully, the new antipsychotic will be in place for me to apply for jobs in January.
