soothing night

In a previous post I mentioned that I prefer waking up at the witching hour. I'm an early riser, now primarily getting up at 1 or 2 am when most well-meaning people are abandoning their books or desks or what have you for a cozy bed. That's when I'm up turning the coffeemaker on, listening to it gurgle in the silence, and when I'm at my most productive. I've long ago dictated that at any other time during the day I was not "allowed" to read. It has to be at night, when the world it well and truly asleep - when people have just been tucked into their beds, entering REM sleep, in no mood to wrench the coverlets off and dash out into the night. I'm almost always physically exhausted, and it's only my OCD that triggers the mad dash for the morning - the food, the coffee and the books. I have to take 2 xanax and 2 adderall to read, I have to eat a bowl of cereal with a banana, I have to read at least 80 pages of this book. There is no cognition when I'm in that state, and I feel like puppet of this eating disorder and my swinging moods. They are in control.

When I was severally depressed, refusing to take my medication, and when my moods and OCD ruled all, I was empty. For years, I was the weird kid, and simply thought I had an inferiority complex. Even when my current/past psychiatrist named my condition, I was still in denial, and embracing the highs and lows that I thought were god's gift - I was blessed. I was crazy. I was wasting time, piddling it away reading Harry Potter fanfiction, and binging/purging every food item in the house. I did all of this for 2 years and lived in total isolation, vacillating between waking up at 12am and 4pm and sleeping for up to 12 hours a day. I avoided my parents, forgot about them, and they avoided and forgot about me. It was always a surprise when we encountered each other in the hallway, and generally made half-hearted motions to smile before we caught ourselves and went back to ignoring eachother. Then there were times when I was manic, and talk-talk-talking to Dad about political mumbo-jumbo and to Mom about whatever was on our minds.

I didn't understand how bad it was until I realized that the people around me were maturing, and moving on with their lives, and television shows came and went. There was no passion for anything in my life; nothing other than b/p and reading fanfiction or watching reruns of Lost. Old friends have conquered high school and college, gotten jobs, and apartments, some have left the country and lived abroad. They have had mounds and heaps of experience, and joy and pride in their accomplishments. And I have nothing to show after all these years. I'm a 10th grader, plowing along. Please tell me this will end.

Oh! My psychiatrist appointment is this morning. *smacks forehead*

I have chipmunk-cheeks from chewing so much gum.