What Have I Become?

It is 6:40 am. I haven't been to bed yet. I've been working since about 6:00 pm on this stupid project that's due Monday, among other things.

I rarely leave the house anymore, except to go pick up some fast food, just to get out. As I was driving to McDonald's today (because McRib is back, motherfuckers!), I was thinking about this and realized what I was doing.

I get up, use the bathroom, brush my teeth, take my meds, shower, get dressed (if I'm going out), eat, and then work. And work. And work. And work. I work until I'm exhausted, then I go to bed until it's time to get up and do it all over again the next day.

Of course, it's not a terrible life. I can sit on my bed and work naked, which I normally do. I can stop and eat whenever. I can play games of Facebook while I work without having to worry about getting caught by my boss. I can make my own hours. I can just NOT work one day if I don't want to.

But...I've realized that I concentrate on work to the exclusion of everything else for a reason. It's the same reason I work all day until I'm absolutely give out and crash into bed.

It's because, somewhere along the line, I became unable to handle my thoughts.

Yes, I know. ME, of all people. ME, the one who likes to be alone. The one who enjoys solitude and draws strength from it. The one who takes pleasure in thinking "deep thoughts" and often solves the problems of the whole Universe (in MY head, anyway).

When the hell did I become unable to be alone with my thoughts?

I'm not sure, actually. It's snuck up on me quietly. I know I prefer to have company nowadays, but, unfortunately, my friends are few and far between. So, mostly, I work to exhaustion (with music playing in the background for extra thought-control) and read until I fall asleep to keep everything squashed down. It's not at all unusual for me to stay up working until my whole body is trembling from exhaustion and starts shutting down on me involuntarily--like right now.

There's just so much I don't want to--can't bear to--think about anymore.

I was talking with ChaosKitty earlier. I said that even though it's a blessing that my thoughts don't race like they do when I'm not on meds, it's also sort of a curse. You see, when they race, at least they depart as fast as they arrive. When they're not racing, the depressing ones hang around a hell of a lot longer.

So I guess in that way, it's better that I don't allow myself to be alone with them, to listen to them. But I also know that some day, somewhere, somehow, I'm going to have to deal with them. And I don't look forward to that shit AT ALL.