I just tried to go to bed, laid down next to sleeping Katie in the dark room, and found myself hallucinating so much it was impossible to relax. Tin toys with heads of animals, arms whirling, one head birthing another from the mouth. Spiders, Santa in his sleigh, candy canes, more spiders, writhing punctuation marks, it went on. I got up and went back to the couch, the light, the comfort of solid objects. Now I'm realizing I left my glasses in there, but I'm nervous about going back in. My vision is still off, not just from missing glasses, the furniture bulges. Warm red static lines the ceiling like mold. It grows. I try not to look at anything for too long. I try not to look too much or too hard. I try to look at the screen, at the keyboard, at my hands typing. I type trying when I mean to type typing.
I am trying. I am trying. I am trying to lead a normal life. I am trying not to fail Katie. I am trying not to fail my parents more than I already have. I am trying to make Christmas magical and fun. I am trying to be supportive and domestic. I am trying to edit my book, though it is going slowly.
Things I am not trying to do: lose weight, stop drinking.
I'm just trying to hold onto sanity, to keep the people around me happy, to amuse myself, to feed the cat and bunny every day, to take all my pills in the right order every day. To budget my funds so that they last the month.
My body, it clenches and aches. I don't know if this is helping, but it beats lying there in the dark staring at the inside of my mind.