from here to there to here

the 48 hrs i'd predicted before The Crash ended up being about 20. by late last week i was in a bleak state. i'd been having panic attacks with increasing frequency over the last several months, but almost always at night, when trying to fall asleep, left alone with my mind. i can feel my moods -or rather, the precipitous onslaught of the moods- 'come on' like hearing the sound of a trsin from far away (stupid cliche), or birds vacating the wires minutes before an earthquake. and i knew this 'episode', if you will, was going to be ugly. i found myself crying uncontrollably whilst driving, snarling at people who didn't deserve it, not even fucking caring how i was sabotaging my world.
on saturday i arrived at work and had an attack. crying hysterically, hyperventilating, unable to say anything but 'i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry' to the coworker who was kind enough to help me. thank fuck this all happened behind closed doors, before i was clocked in, away from everyone else. mortifying. terrifying. fucking disgusting. i left. i drove around for about 2 hours in the muggy suburbs, chain-smoking, eyes swollen, a somnambulous stranger to myself.
but it was what needed to happen. after a few hours, after sitting in a park and whining to s about my non-issues, i felt normal again. mellow. rather tired. the storm, as they say, had passed.
until next time. (usually this happens in roughly 3-week cycles, varying degrees of intensity; i can predict it fairly accurately.)
is this manic-depression?
or am i, as i have suspected all along, just a fucking daft cunt with no presonal control, maturity, sense of perspective, or ability to ovverride my impulses?
*
i was blithely diagnosed 'manic-depressive' several years ago. went on meds for a few months. didn't help, just made me even more depressed. i blame that era on the concurrent bullshit going on in my personal life. and i don't believe in mood meds anyhow; i find them ethically abhorrent, a grotesque byproduct of a vapid culture that has ceased to properly understand itself.
...but the main reason i went off the meds: i missed the highs. the highs are what i fucking live for. they make me able to regard the 'lows' with the clinical indulgence of a doting counselor, a counselor examining this strange and annoying creature called brynn. the highs let me feel witty and creative and alive, tipsy without alcohol, awake without sleep. the highs justify the lows, except when the lows are actually happening.
things, obviously, are better now.
i talked to HR on sunday. she was incredibly cool. 'you are in good company here' she said. 'i have anxiety issues. at least 5 other people i can think of here are on meds for the same thing.' i was so fucking afraid that i would be seen as an unstable dipshit, not worthy of my job. 'you're going through a lot of crap right now' she said. 'it's a lot to handle. just let us know if you need anything.'
i was 200mph-hellbent on leaving seattle on saturday. moving everything. starting over. new career, living in squalor, just as alone but in more novel surroundings. it was my way, in that mindset, of saying FUCK YOU to MS, my past, everyone else who was moving on, the relentless drizzle, the boredom. but obviously, what i really needed, and what i got when i least expected it, was proof that people actually give a shit after all, even when i completely do not warrant their shit-giving.
and i am fucking grateful. and, still, a bit disbelieving. the crazy part of me has never been able to fully trust kindness.
anyway, enough of that.
*
the motherboard on my computer is completely fucked up. "just get a new computer" the guy told me. he estimated the laptop at about 9 years old. "haven't seen one of those in a long time" he said. and then he laughed.
i drove to shelton today. twas a meandering route. i haven't been here in years. my library card is still valid. what a fucking sad town: in a valley, surrounded by clearcut swaths, tract housing, rusted vehicles and logging trucks. everyone looks miserable. i could not remember where the library was. the markers along the road are all for churches, which i have never seen the likes of before; they mark churches the way most places indicate town halls, courthouses, et al. there was a store on the way into town called "cindy's dog magic". it was closed. a faded mural of a rooster yelling 'taxi!' on the side of a fried-chicken restaurant. a still-functioning drive-in theater, showing a movie i have never heard of.
a woman at the library just came up to me with a phone she;d found. it was ringing and she couldn't figure out how to answer it. i answered it for her; the caller was the owner. she's still talking to him. that just made my day. people are good.
*
one last thing: i'm starting avonex. a drug rep meets with me in the next few weeks to teach me how to inject myself. i am happy with my decision; it will be nice to exert a semblence of control over what is essentially the core of the aforementioned anxiety. my reticence thus far, other than denial, has been due to the potential side effects: flulike symptoms, liver issues, and... depression!
life, you alluring mistress, do not taunt me so. i should so rather be coming than going.