Jewel awoke with a start.  She knew better than to move too quickly after last evening.  “Not again,” she thought, stretching the kinks out of her stiff muscles.  The sky was just getting light, a little past 6 in the morning.  Her companion, David, was apparently already out, tired of dealing with her difficult starts.

“Damned, noisy neighbors” she grumbled to herself.  “Why don’t they sleep in.  It’s not like they HAVE to be up at this hour, like I do”.

Needing to quench her urgent thirst, she set out for breakfast.  As she settled in for her morning meal, a welcome, soothing coolness filled her burning throat.

“I must find a way to stop.  It really is going to kill me one day”, she thought.  Her friends and family knew all about it and usually she paid them no mind.  It was always easy to dismiss their concerns when she was flying high.  It was only in the mornings that the guilt and worry punctured her calm exterior.

If nature had not intended me to partake, it would not have provided the opportunity, she reasoned.  “No, no it’s out of control.  I must stop.”

So, feeling a bit stronger, she swore to herself that today she would seek guidance and help.  She knew there were others, she had seen brief glimpses of them before.  They, like her, were always cautious, always scanning for potential trouble.

As she arrived at the meeting place, she searched their faces more closely and saw something familiar.  The first to rise called for silence and began to speak.

“My name is Merlin and I am an alcoholic hummingbird.  I know i must accept my powerlessness over alcohol and keep away from the feeder on the corner of Walnut and Willow.   The human who puts it out has been away for weeks (likely locked in the bin again, the crazy bitch, he mused to himself) and nature, yeast and the sun have conspired to ferment our precious sugar water into the poison we all seek.”

“I know that one day our human will return and in time remember to change the feeder.  Where will i be if I can no longer visit that crimson container for my forbidden treat?”, he asked.

“I admit I have hurt my friends and neighbors, I have caused them to be concerned for me and on more than one occasion, I have awakened in a shrub miles from my home.”

“I am truly sorrow-filled and ask most sincerely for forgiveness.”

As he fluttered to a nearby branch, Jewel blushed slightly, feeling his words echoing in her head.  She knew it was her actions he could have been describing.  She was no stranger to the feeder on the corner.  As others spoke next, she nodded her head in agreement and understanding.

At the meetings’ end she was given a tiny piece of silk wrapped lichen upon which were written the Avian Alcoholics Anonymous (AAA)  6 Steps to Recovery.

It read :

1.  I will admit I am powerless over alcohol.

2.  I will admit that I am not a mammal with an evolutionary penchant for alcoholic drink.

3.  I will turn my will over to our human who, in times of clarity,  provides all that we truly


4.  I will take an honest inventory of myself and my deeds and try to make amends to those I have wronged or worried.

5.  I will be prepared to let our human remove the source of my obsession.

6.  I will practice mindfulness in all I do and strive to share its’ messages with others.

As Jewel tucked the parcel under her breast feathers and headed home to David, she smiled inside and believed that tomorrow could be different.


Just fucking around.  Doc



I’m trying


Saw the orthopedic surgeon yesterday (really, that was just yesterday? – seems like days ago) and we are both happy with my hands’ progress. I have better range of motion and sensation is slowly returning to the fingers of my right hand.  “Rate your improvement on a scale of 1 to 100, with 100 being normal”.  “Well, i’d say 70 percent normal”.   “Good”, he says smiling.  I am supposed to resume physical therapy now.

Forced myself out of bed and drove 1 hour north to ride one of my sisters’ horses yesterday. I also had to drop off my bills for her to pay from my social security disability acct..  ! 2 activties in one day!  Seemed to satisfy my brother-in-law and sister that i was “engaging” in life. I didn’t want to tell them that i’ve stopped the morning meds. completely now.  Can’t deal with their disapproving faces. But it’s been three days or so without them and i am more awake than i was.  Granted, Wolf is still whispering to me, especially at night.  “She should die”.  Who is he talking to?

I feel the urge to “do something”, but i don’t know what to do.  Wolf wants me to break my arm.  I’ve tried to before using a chunk of firewood, but only bruised it. I could claimed this kind of injury was an “accident”, avoiding the bad looks and questions that would invariably arise. I am considering an overdose or trying to cut an artery in my left arm.  I’ve looked up the anatomy of the human forearm and believe i can do a “proper” approach to the artery without missing the vessel or cutting a nerve.  I am ambivalent about obeying him.  I think an overdose or bleeding would be better. Again, cutting will be harder to explain to everyone.  But i know me and once a decision is made i must follow through.

What would happen if i told “someone” about these urges?  Would i end up back in the hospital? On a locked ward again?  DON’T want THAT.  Bettter to keep quiet for now.  Besides, i already know how i could sneak a scalpel in with me.  So, i wouldn’t be “safe” there anyway.

What people don’t understand is i MUST do one of these.  Failure to obey or placate Wolf  WILL  lead to someone in my family being hurt again. I cannot take that chance.

My insurance company – Blue Cross/Blue Shield (BCBS) has been calling me since my recent discharge.  They have a psychiatric nurse trying to engage me and “see how you are doing”.  I am very concerned about this.  I couldn’t pick up the phone and talk to him recently because i had a previous experience with BCBS nurses calling the police and having me taken into custody, spending a week in the hospital after one of the callers took umbrage with a comment i had made to her about a recent gun purchase so i could “keep my options open”.  They didn”t get that i feel better knowing i have a way out.  Like the time i stopped smoking cigarettes and found comfort in knowing i had put an extra pack on top of the ‘fridge, just in case.

It’s so hard to know how much to disclose.  So, i just didn’t answer his calls. I think it will be better to keep my mouth shut.

The police, it seems, have been involved with every one of my involuntary (they all were) admissions since this nightmare started 3 years ago.  Not unexpectedly, i have developed a sincere and deep fear of them.  Every cop car passing is looking at/for me. They even managed to implant a microchip in me to keep track.  I had to surgically remove it and after my recent apprehension i fear they managed to implant another.  I haven’t found it yet but will remove it and destroy it once i do.

I can’t believe it has been 2 years since i’ve worked.  What the FUCK have i been doing?  I cannot remember.  I have been working since i was 15 years old.  How can 2 years be gone?  I didn’t notice.  I also know that my memories of my  teen and 20/30’s are gone or scrambled.  I can’t even picture places or routes or remember people i once knew quite well.  Someone/something has erased them.  ECT anyone? I feel empty and lost. Why would anyone want or take my thoughts and memories?

I did break down and scheduled an appt. with a new therapist, another social worker, not a psychologist like my last one. In fact, the appt. is with the same guy who had me certified 3 weeks ago for my admission.  First man i’ve chosen to try.  Despite what he did, he seemed nice enough and agreed to see me.  Perhaps a man will be easier to talk to about my abuse . He asked if my abuser had “done any jail time” and seemed geniunely saddened when i said no. My appt. is June 4.

I did go out and see a movie.  Dark Shadows with Johnny Depp.  It was OK.  I like him(he is so cute) and i liked Helena Bonham Carter as the doctor Julia, but the plot was odd.  The visual/special effects were good, but i can only give it a “fair” rating. I can’t exactly say what i was expecting but they did try to cram a lot of story lines in the film not from the original series and it threw me off.  Like young Caroline as a werewolf.  I also had uncomfortable (to say the least) feelings when they showed Victoria getting unsedated ECT as a child.

I just texted my sister to have good luck today at her barrel race. Please take care and don’t get hurt again.  But i couldn’t tell her that Wolf may be gunning for her because of my failure to obey his demand yet.  That would not be fair to her.  I will have to wait and hope for the best and her continued safety. I hope he doesn’t retaliate. Perhaps i should appease him now.

Going for a smoke and a think.      Doc.

Addendum:  I’ve done it.  I have bled.  Perhaps he’ll be happy now and my little sister will be safe today.

Changing my meds

It’s 140 pm and today i am able to move my fat ass about.  Since increasing my Risperidal I have found i am WAY too groggy in the daylight hours.  Soooo, i decided to stop the morning doses of Risperidal and Buspar and resume drinking caffeinated coffee.  Before this change, i felt like i weighed 10,000 lbs. and motivating myself to even get up was too much work.  Of course, i still can’t quite manage to dress, comb my hair, or brush my teeth.  So, is the anti-depressant Viibryd even working?  Don’t know. Probably not.

My sister and current torturer “come outside for Pete’s sake” is upset and CONCERNED about my safety and ? sanity.  She feels i should just learn to live with the zombified state this shit induces in me.  Fuck that.  She asked if Wolf was still talking to me.  “Yes.”

He is with me much of the time now.  Whispering things to me. Putting pictures in my head.  Pictures of how i might die.  “Choose one girl”.    So, decreasing my meds. “seems like a bad idea” to her.  But she doesn’t have to put up with him or the endless dead, but awake existence that i do because of these meds.

Plus, (as i told her) i still take the bastarding things at night in an attempt to sleep.  Got 4 hours last night – yea.  OK, granted my usual history has been to start meds. then eventually withdraw them as THEY DON’T WORK.  But, i promised (somebody) to give the anti-depressant it’s 6 weeks to work before i chuck it in the growing pile of psychiatric meds. i possess.  Meds. SUCK.

I did get my truck back from the shop yesterday.  Only needed new brake pads.

I did get up and go to her horse show (huge effort, thank you) last weekend.  I even WON the 50:50 draw where half the tickets sales go to the winner (me) and half to the venue.  Got me $107.00! What to buy?

As expected, i’ve already lost 3 fish.  1 platy and 2 neon tetras.  Oh well.

I’m expected (supposed) to find a new therapist here soon.  Frankly, too much work.

I feel coerced into “living” and joining in activities planned to keep me busy.  Unfortunately,  i, as a rule, don’t like people.  I’m not people phobic (like Dotty) but certainly sitting around chatting with relative strangers does not appeal to me. I’m more likely to look engaged but really i couldn’t care less and usually end up wandering off or pacing about until they lose interest.  Nothing new.

For now, i grit my teeth and endure until it’s over and i can come home and smoke(get high).  THEN, people are almost OK.

I do have to (and probably will) go see the orthopedic guy tomorrow.  Final check on my hand.  I have regained some sensation in the fingers of my right hand but am still mostly left-handed.

I found out the cops also took the ammo. from my truck.  Apparently it is unlawful (boo) for mentals to possess guns or ammo. I will have to remedy my current situation. Soon.  For fucks sake, i never threatened to shoot anyone. I seem to have lost my constitutional right to bear arms.  Go USA!

I also agreed to camp out last Saturday night on the farm. Nice weather, i smoked and drank West Virginia- made moonshine so the evening was tolerable.  Always hate crawling out of the sleeping bag to take that first morning wee when the grass is wet with dew and you can’t crawl back in without bringing dirt and bits of grass into the bed. Slept on a newly purchased air mattress – sweet. Hint for next time-don’t smoke cigarettes inside the tent.  Can’t breathe. Pot might be different.  Perhaps i’ll camp out again and try it.

Looks like i’m expecting to be around for a little while longer as i’m about to buy tickets to see Lynard Skynard in July here at the local firehouse.Only seats @ 500 people so it might be good.

I’ve been trying (OK, half-assed) to teach my self to play the guitar and LS’s “Simple Man” is one of the tunes i’m learning.  Might be good to hear it played live by the artists.

Well i’m done in now.  Back to my bed.  Doc.




Shrink appt. etc.


Saw Dr.S’nG yesterday for the first post-incarceration visit.  I had decided to not eat and see if i my stomach growls could overwhelm his.  But apparently he had eaten something recently because i could only hear my own stomach (and Wolf), of course.

We “reviewed” the weeks’ events and  how i was feeling yesterday.  “Do i have to worry that you’re going to go out and kill yourself today?”  Not me – besides i wouldn’t share it with you if i was.  Actually, he didn’t wait for my answer.

I asked him – “What keeps happening to me?”.  You know  – he didn’t answer the question. Why don’t most shrinks just answer the question?  Instead he plodded on with his questions.  “Do you still hear your ah… demon?”

“It’s a wolf (you twit)  and, yes”.

“Since you’ve been home?”, he asked looking at me sideways.

“Yes, he told me he’s still here and your drugs can’t touch him”.

In the end, we (he) decided to increase the risperidal by 50 – 100% and to add an additional dose if “you feel like you are crashing”.  The hard bit is i can’t seem to remember simple linear instructions anymore. He stated – “take an extra dose in the mornings,  either 1/2 or 1 tablet, when Wolf is bothering you”.  Well, i understood the words, they went into my brain but didn’t stay long.  So he wrote it down for me.

Wolf is thumbing his nose at these attempts to silence him and has promised retaliation.  Which has lead me to find out where my rifle has gotten off to. It’s only a .22 but i NEED it.  I texted my sister asking who has it and when can i get it back.  She told me the police came in the house looking for me(i wasn’t here) and she believes they took it.  Well, i want it back.  NOW.

I am currently fighting with my brain because it refuses to remember practically anything except old routines and ways.. Can’t get it to accept new information or thoughts without immediately flushing it, right out my ears i guess.  I even made a list of steps to take in an attempt to have my truck dropped off for a brake job, but i forgot to look at the list and now the truck is SOMEWHERE and there was shit in it i need.  (‘Get shit from truck’ was no. 3 on the list).

I am suppose to get my sorry ass out of this bed and go watch my sister barrel race today (in 90 mins.)  One of the plans to “keep the mental occupied”.  We’ll see.

I have resumed my usual post-hospitalization spending.  This time it’s tropical fish, nuts, and camping gear.  I was going to camp out on the big farm tonight BUT my tent is in my TRUCK.

I LOVE the new fish tank.  It’s small, only 3 gallons but it came with these green, red, and blue neon lights.  So cool.  The colors flicker and dance on the ceiling of the pitched roof in my bedroom.  Last night, after 2 or 3 bong hits (and my newly increased meds.), the lights made the ceiling look like it was boiling and alive.  So cool.  Of course, if (when) the fish perish i’ll wonder what the fuck i was thinking.

ALL RIGHT. I’m getting up.  Need to find my jeans, boots, and dark sunglasses and go to the horse show.  Doc.


Yet again.

I’m back home after a week of inpatient (not my idea) psych. care.  I must say that this time wasn’t the nightmare of last fall, mainly because the sadistic shrink who “took care” of me then has mercifully moved on.  One of the nurses said she remembered how we “butted heads” and that both of us were “so damned stubborn”.  Stubborn – me?  Never.

I am sorry to have caused such drama around here. Drama involving police dogs, the state police helicopter and the local police dive team.  Apparently, one of the search and rescue dogs tracked me onto one of the piers on the river.  Drama that wasn’t my idea.

Currently, trying to find a way to sleep.  I think the new meds are screwing with my brain and keeping me UP.  Luckily -? – I have an appt. with Dr. S’nG tomorrow and i had to promise to get a new therapist in order to secure my release.  So many people have so many plans for me.  They had better remember that i have FINAL approval of any and all plans. Dog(s), school, yoga, activities, blah, blah, blah.  “Don’t just say you’ll do it, actually do it”.  Fuck off.

Actually, yoga might be OK.

It seems my last firearm was confiscated while i was away.  I remember hiding it here in the house, but it’s GONE.  What will i do now when the bad guy is trying to get in?  Shout loudly at him?  I need to think.