Woke up a few minutes before 1. Groggy, of course. Somehow I feel like it’s my fault, and more. It’s my fault I’m so sick. It’s my fault mom has a dead-end job and dad is crazy.
I have a phone screen at 3:30 which isn’t as bad as a full interview but today for some reason I am loathing the thought of doing it. Any work, but particularly an interview or phone screen.
Waiting for the coffee to stop irritating my stomach so I can take the morning dose of my pills. I am fully aware of the episode I had last night. It wasn’t fun. It’s strange, to be able so clearly to remember torture (no word for it but) but to be out of it. I wonder if that’s where vengeance comes from.
Mom is in her room reading.
I guess I’ll get the phone screen over with. There’s time to prepare psychologically or otherwise, too, though. Which means de-grog, wake up.
I don’t want to just down my meds b/c kind of nauseous and scared I will vomit them up. Oh yeah, the ondansentron. Better have one of those fuckers… Ondandestron. That’s how it’s spelled, I shit you not.
Ugh. I guess that’s it for now. More later.