Apparently I ate a pot brownie

Oh, to not begin with anything.
Shaft of a light. A warm breath and a scream.
Tamper if you like between the doors.
Can't expect to go out, to go out with anything more.

-Pearl Jam

The only thing assured in life is death. To most, this is a call to follow your bliss. To a hypochondriac this is proof that we should be freaking out RIGHT NOW! But, if its true that life is a journey, not a destination, then why isn't the destination worthy of the journey?

I mean, who would walk through a rain forest to get to a scorched desert? Who would walk down a beautiful beach to find rain? You'd never make that destination if the journey was all that great.

Maybe the lesson is that because life is a destination, we should enjoy the journey. Its more like walking down the hall in school when you're sent to the principle's office. That is the slowest you will ever walk in your entire life. You'll stop to inspect every brick, read every poster, and drink from every fountain.

I don't know where I'm going here. Lately, I've decided that I've been so focused on the journey that I've missed the fact that I'm hurdling toward the destination faster than ever before. Maybe hypochondria is a blessing in disguise. We, of all people, are fully aware at all times what is at stake. In many ways, that makes us luckier than most.

Hope springs eternal, and sometimes a leak

I belted out an entire record of Pearl Jam's today. Not the sort of tap your feet, hum along, whistely belt-out. We're talking full-on rock star, "Alright Cleveland, are you ready to rock!?" belting. It was cathartic.

Today felt better. Not good, better. Friday will be one week since I've left. One week of feeling guilty, of having conversations I didn't want to have, of not seeing my son every day, of not...having a purpose.

But today, I had a purpose. Things happened today, for whatever reason, that have reaffirmed my belief that I made the right choice for me, and for my family. On the surface that is a self-serving statement. One that makes me feel better about myself, about the choices I made, and the people I hurt. But I also believe its a truth. That, over time, my family will be happy, even if not living in the same house.

12 years ago I made a commitment to my wife. To love, honor, cherish, take out the trash, feed the dogs, and water the lawn. I think I can honor those commitments. Maybe not in a traditional way, but in a more sincere way. In a way that lets me be me. An Eddie Vedder in training.


Lives opened and trashed...
look ma, watch me crash...
No time to question...whyd nothing last...
Grasp and hold on...hold tight and fast...
Soon be over...and I will relent...

Let the ocean swell, dissolve way my past
Three days, and maybe longer, wont even know Ive left

Let the sun climb, oh, burn way my mask
Three days, and maybe longer, shed my skin at last...

-Pearl Jam

Its quiet, too quiet

Surprisingly absent during this whole ordeal are any new "symptoms". I've always been under the impression that stressful events precipitate my problems. But not in this case.

Maybe its too early to tell but I don't feel differently, physically anyway, than I did on Thursday. And, to boot, I even felt good on Thursday. Considering the holidays last year were the worst two months of my life, that's saying a lot.

Maybe, though, the reason is that this is just a distraction. I've been so focused on marital issues that I haven't had time to look for cancers or listen to my eyes move (that's my favorite one).

So, we'll see how it goes. I'm still on the meds and trying to kep myself busy. At some point, though, I'll have a quiet moment and we'll see what my brain decides to do with the down time.

Did a lot more talking yesterday. It felt...numb. Like I couldn't care enough to...care. I know that's not the case. At least, I hope its not. I still deeply care for her. In a way that I'll never be able to care for another person. But at some point I've had to detach myself.

Maybe its a defense mechanism, maybe its what happens when you get "cold", maybe its just who I am. I want so much to believe that we can work it out but the same part of me that turns on to prevent a panic attack or gets me out of thinking I have a swollen ear lobe has "clicked on".

I think meditation and just plain old soul searching has given me at least a small ability to be rational when I normally wouldn't be. But , I guess, the question is, "Is this really the time to be rational?".

Maybe in matters of the heart you should be purely emotional. Purely emotional Dave would be running through a field of daisies toward my wife with a sappy Rod Stewart (yes, Rod Stewart) song playing. Rational Dave is running the other way. Rational Dave is leaving his wife of 12 years. The woman he's known in some form or another for a full two thirds of his life.

Rational Dave may be an ass but right now he has control. We'll see where he takes us.

P.S. The entire last sentence was typed by Felicitous Dave. Rational Dave's hours are between 3PM and 9PM EST. Duplicitous Dave and Vivacious Dave may also be reached at this location.

The Day After

I'm staying at a friend's house. They're being really good to me, as good friends always are. I went to the house today to check on the wife and child. We hung out, went and got McDonald's and went to the park.

That was all uneventful enough. When our son went down for a nap she wanted to talk some more. It seemed like she went through all the stages of grief in the span of an hour. There was denial when I got there. The house had been cleaned and she was trying to look happy. This hurts.

There was bargaining. "What if we just set a date for one month away and if it doesn't work then that's that" and various other compromises.

Anger. She was visibly angry. She says not at me but at herself for messing everything up. Of course I told her this wasn't the case and that we can't regret who we are.

I can't remember the other two stages. I can sum them up for you though. I feel like shit. This is the reaction I expected from her. It was obvious that I caught her by complete surprise. This, to me, only cements what I've believed to be true. That while we're deeply in love, we aren't friends and we don't "care" about each other.

Not the sort of caring where you worry if someone doesn't call or drop everything and rush to the hospital when one gets bitten by say...I don't know...fire ants. The sort of caring that makes you excited when the other person does well and sad when they don't. The kind of caring that lets you see what the other person needs and provide it without being asked.

Maybe this kind of caring doesn't exist. Maybe it does.

I think in the end she understands my point and sees that I'm not being difficult and that I'm not blaming her. I hope, in the future, that we can become friends. Maybe someday, more than friends. That's not to say I'm changing my mind, just to say that I believe in the ability of people to change once they truly see that they can.

Its done

She took it better than expected.

It was much harder than I expected.

I'm with some friends right now, I'll keep everyone posted when I get some time.

Happy Thanksgiving

I'm here at the in-laws for the day (yippie...). They aren't bad as in-laws go. They just aren't 'my kind of people' and, generaly speaking, I'm not there's either. But we get along.

I've spent the day mostly in silence. I'm trying to be as sociable as I can but that's not saying much. I've also been trying to treat this like 'the last thanksgiving' just to see what it feels like.

Funny, last time I was here I thought it was my last Christmas ever. Of course that's because I was 'dying' of a heart attack.

Anyway, considering my circumstances this is a pretty good Thanksgiving. I hope ya'll's (yes, that's a word) is a happy one, too.

Should I stay or should I go

The question was posed, "Do I think leaving will make me happy?". The simple answer is, no. It will make me very sad in the short term.

But a very good friend has also clued me into the fact that I know I'm not happy now. If I stay in this situation I know the outcome. If I make a change, I don't know the outcome but at least its not 100% assured.

Its like being given a 10% chance. If you have a 100% chance of dying without a certain treatment and a 90% chance with, isn't that worth it?

Again, I really appreciate the comments. Between you, my online friends, and the one or two people "in the flesh" that I've talked to about this I'm having to answer a lot of questions I would have never asked.

That sort of transparency in a thought process is rarely available to me.

The art of saying nothing

This is yet another non-hypochondria post. If I keep doing this I may have to start another blog or "re-purpose" this one. I had hoped this blog wouldn't turn into yet another way for me to be a narcissist but then, isn't that really what blogging is about? But I digress.

It is the day before Thanksgiving. I'm trying to help me and my family retain some semblance of a holiday season by not breaking my "news" until after the New Year.

Ostensibly (that's at least 3 $1 words so far) this is to prevent having any sort of negative impact on holidays to come. I'd rather not have Thanksgiving or Christmas be the "anniversary" of our separation (assuming it occurs).

The problem is, its obvious to anyone, especially my wife, that I'm depressed. Or, at least, not myself. So I find myself practically hiding out to prevent the inevitable question from occurring.

"Is everything OK?"

Over the years, due to my other issues, my wife has grown desensitized to my being in a funk. This is a good thing. For long periods throughout our marriage I would have the classic depression symptoms. Lack of appetite, lack of sex drive, desire to sleep all day, unwillingness to go places or see people, etc. (Like I said, my wife by no means the only one at fault in this marriage.)

She used to ask what was wrong all the time. I started out by answering with my most recent diagnosis. "I have Multiple Sclerosis". At which point she'd start crying. Then a week later "I have lung cancer". More crying.

At some point, she, rightly so, gave up on this. Only after weeks of being in a slump would she ask what was wrong. I learned that my answers should be measured and in vague terms as to prevent her worry and to keep from patronizing myself.

At this point, though, we can go days without even talking to one another before she seems to notice there's anything wrong. Its been days.

Now I'm worried that the question will come and wondering how I should answer. Part of me wants to lie to prevent spoiling Thanksgiving or Christmas. Part of me wants to "get it over with" for fear I'll weaken in the coming months and just live with it.

So today's rhetorical question is, "Am I really protecting her by waiting?"

Common sense says yes. It would be impossibly awkward to have to deal with holidays and relatives knowing we were splitting up and either trying to look happy or, worse, dealing with the knowing looks of our family who, 15 years ago, told us we were stupid to get married.

Why couldn't I have been born a Canadian Jew?

I'm still a hypochondriac and don't you forget it!

I finally figured out a way to tie it all in. I had this thought last night. What if I do...change my situation...and I die before I'm happy? Like what if I have a heart attack from all the stress and never get to be happy? Or what if I choke on my Fruity Pebbles and there's no one to give me the Heim...Hyml..H... No one to tell me to raise my hands above my head and pat me on the back?

It will definitely go on my con list.

Wax On Wane Off

Just like a normal bout of "hypochondria" (as if it was a cold) today I'm better. Not happy. Better. I'm not depressed but I'm not going to fool myself into thinking that it was just a "spell". I still spent the entire evening by myself watching TV having said only a few passing words to my wife.

I found myself spending extra time playing with my son, reading a book, taking him to breakfast, all on the precept that I won't have much time to spend with him. This is sad but, somehow, the decision seems to give me some peace.

Not that the decision is made but more that I'm "deciding to decide". Its like one person recommended that I try to live with each decision for a week and see how it feels.

Seems like good advice. Along with everything else everyone has said. Thanks.

My rhetorical questions for today

Things that are going through my mind today:

What if I make the right decision for the wrong reason?

What if I make the wrong decision for the right reason?

How do I balance my list of 'pros' to another's list of 'cons'?

When is a promise too much to bear?

Is a zero-sum game fair?

Is it really even zero-sum; can it be a negative-sum?


I'm not looking for answers (but they're welcomed) just giving insight.

You guys rock

I appreciate the support. Its interesting that the Internet is so often maligned and blamed for the decline of interpersonal relationships. It seems to me there's a whole support structure out there waiting to be tapped and, for the first time, isn't bound by distance.

I also appreciate you sharing your personal situations. It takes just as much to do that in a comment as it does to write a post. Again, thanks.

Fair warning, this ain't funny.

I'll warn you now. This post has nothing to do with being a hypochondriac. And it probably won't be very funny. But, I need to write it somewhere and this blog has always been very helpful to me.

I've been married for 12 years. We met in 7th grade, started dating in high school, got married a year after high school. We have a nice house, one beautiful boy, two dogs, and a bunch of "stuff". And I'm considering a divorce.

That is a heavy statement. For anyone who's never had to write it, imagine writing something like "my father died" or "I have cancer". It's heavy. When you write it it hits the keyboard with a thump. It just hangs there. So much so that you have to check to make sure you wrote it.

Let me go back a bit and say that I've never been unfaithful. Not once. I've never even propositioned another woman, let alone touched one, in the 14 years I've been with my wife. And, to my knowledge, neither has she. I've never struck her, I never raise my voice and I'm never belligerent. And, on all those points, neither is she.

So why contemplate divorce? Well, because in short, I'm not happy. This is why I write this here and not some other random blog. I haven't been happy in years. I'll spare you the reasons why. Just know that they are varied and, seemingly to the outside observer, petty. But, like the protagonist in "The Cask of Amontillado" (surprised I've read?), "The thousands of injuries...I've bared as best I could..." have gotten to me.

So, back to the point. I'm not happy. But here's the real problem. I have problems with depression. I always have. So here's the question. "How do I know I'm not just depressed?" What's to say I'm not in a down turn and this is just another "what if"?

What if the cause of my depression is my marriage?

What if i leave her and I'm alone forever?

What will happen to my son?

What will happen to her? (I do still love her.)

What if this is a mid-life (or 1/3 life) crisis and I really just need to buy a Corvette?

What if I make a mistake and regret it forever?

What if I do nothing and regret it forever?

The what if engine doesn't only strike during periods of anxiety. Its always there. Maybe in this case its beneficial. This isn't something to be taken lightly.

I don't suspect I'll talk about this much. I hope that, like my other problems, I'll wake up one day and feel a little bit better. I know some of you are religious so, if you'd mention me to your favorite deity, I'd appreciate it.

Once interesting point. I actually took my blood pressure today just to take my mind off of this. It didn't work, blood pressure was great. Funny how that works. When you need anxiety, its just not there...

My hurts

Apparently there aren't many sites on the Internet that deal in either spleen or uvula pain. This is evident by the number of hits I get daily requesting information on said maladies.

So for those of you who've come here looking for information on diseases of the Uvula, I'll direct you here:

Diseases of the Uvula

And for the spleenicly deficient:

Spleen Diseases


I love being able to use my google-powers for good.

Two words: "Make up your damn mind"

OK, that's more than two words. Maybe I should have said "words evenly divisible by two"... Today, I read this:

November 14, 2006 -- Put this in your fry basket: The American Heart Association opposes Mayor Bloomberg's plan to ban trans fat in restaurants - breaking ranks with most health advocates.

"The American Heart Association is concerned that the ban of trans fat in restaurants in its current form may not be the best course of proposed action," the medical group said in written testimony obtained by The Post.

"We are concerned that there is the potential for unintended and adverse consequences, such as restaurants returning to the use of oils high in saturated or animal-based fat if healthier oils are in short supply," the association's Megan Lozito told the city Board of Health.

"These unhealthy substitutes also pose important health risks."

This is exactly what's wrong with the medical profession. OK, maybe not exactly, I mean, there's tongue depressors and digital rectal exams, but you know what I mean. Here we have an organization that says "Trans-fats are bad". Then someone goes out on a limb to ban them and they say "The alternative to trans-fats are bad".

Exactly what is being accomplished here? If I was Michael Bloomberg I would seriously consider flying to the headquarters of the AHA and pimp slapping the white coat off of the joker that gave this press release.

If trans-fats weren't the worst thing we could eat but not the best, then say that. But based on all the hoopla over the last year I am fully expecting to die of a coronary the next time I eat my toast with margarine.

White and nerdy

Not much to report today. As my hero and moral mentor, Ice Cube, once said "Today was a good day". Of course I also think he said something about doing rather impolite things to a police officer...maybe I should pick another mentor.

The new look

I've made changes. It became apparent that the color-scheme of the blog was depressing. Either that or I became depressing and decided to blame it on the color scheme. Either way, I changed it. I promise, the content will still be as depressing as before.

Ooops

I realized last night about 5 minutes after I typed my last post that I hadn't taken my medication that day. If you've been with me for any period of time you'll know that this is usually a cause for great consternation. That's assuming I know what "consternation" really means. At first glance it looks like a group of stars that have trouble going to the bathroom... But, I digress.

I realized this as I was brushing my teeth. I think I hit all the stages of grief as I came to this realization:

Denial - "That can't be. I never forget my meds."

Anger - "I am such a dork!"

Bargaining - "Maybe I can just take it now and everything will be alright."

Depression - "Why am I freaking out about this? I thought I was 'better'... This is so sad. If I wasn't going to have a stroke from the high blood pressure, I'd shoot myself."

and finally:

Acceptance - "I'll just go to bed and die now. Lord, take me home."


Of course, I didn't die. At least, I hope not. 'Cause I didn't read anywhere in the Bible about blogging. I guess I survived. It was a restless night and there were a few phantom "chest pains" and "almost-heart attacks" but, I made it. This only proves that vigilance is the price you pay for "health".

Even for a second I let my guard down and something small crept in and made me question my health and, literally, my sanity.

You heard it here first!

See! I told you!

David Batty and agencies
Friday November 10, 2006
Guardian Unlimited

Doctors in doubt about a patient's ailment could use Google to help them reach a diagnosis, researchers said today.

Two Australian doctors have found that entering the symptoms of a tricky case into the internet search engine often results in accurately diagnosing the illness.

They put Google to the test by entering the symptoms of 26 difficult cases recorded in the New England Journal of Medicine into the search engine to see how accurate an aid to diagnosis it was. And in 58% of cases using the search engine led to the correct diagnosis.

I don't know why I find this a positive thing. I really should be freaking out at the fact that google might be right half the time and I actually have hemochromomyoencephelocitis because my eyebrows twitch occasionally.

I can't imagine this will be beneficial the next time i go symptom surfing.

Today is another day

Or maybe yesterday is another day...or something. Its 1:11AM at the time if this writing. I've just finished looking over my benefits for next year or, more to the point, deciding how much money I will give my doctor to tell me I will die...eventually.

Just a random blurb. I really appreciate the comments you guys (and gals) leave. I can't tell you enough how much it helps to know we're not alone (and we're not). I was thinking on the way home from my martial arts class about something the instructor said. He was giving me a sort of pat on the back and made mention to the class that I'm always relaxed under pressure.

Funny thing is that I'm usually a wreck of adrenaline and uncertainty in those classes. Much like during 'attacks'. To most people (maybe everyone except my wife) I seem normal. I usually get remarks about how 'even-keeled' I am (ahoy, shape the mizzenmast and hoist the main sail). But, I'm usually a flurry of what-ifs and my mind is racing 100 miles an hour.

Maybe normal people are the same way. Maybe what looks like calm and collected is really fear uncertainty and doubt. I sure hope so. It might be mean but it'd sure make me feel better to know I'm more normal than I think I am.

P.S. While spell-checking the above it pointed out that I typed "marital arts" instead of "martial arts"...Freud would be proud.

I spoke too soon

After my little "I'm so healthy I'm sick" schpeel (i have no idea how to spell it) yesterday I knew I was in danger... I just didn't expect it so quickly. This morning as I was sitting in my fortress of solitude (spelled b-a-t-h-r-o-o-m) I "noticed" my heart beat felt "weird". For those of you like me those two words - 'noticed' and 'weird' - are the hallmarks of an ensuing freak-out.

The dictionary defines 'weird' as:

adjective
suggesting something supernatural; uncanny : the weird crying of a seal.
• informal very strange; bizarre : a weird coincidence | all sorts of weird and wonderful characters.
• archaic connected with fate.

I define 'weird' as:

noun
The state a vital organ or system enters precisely 5 minutes before death.

Examples of weird things might be heartbeats, eye twitches, feeling cold, feeling hot, feeling happy, sad, anxious, calm, or really, any feeling whatsoever that you happen to 'notice' at that moment.

Its really inconcequential what you're 'noticing'. Its much more important that it was noticed because, as we all know, any new sensation equals impending doom. Even, oddly enough, feelings of impending doom equal impending doom (a heart attack).

As quickly as I felt the heartbeat it was gone. I freaked a little bit and it all came in. I went from (alleged) odd heartbeat to who will raise my son in a matter of 5 minutes.

I was able to meditate this morning and that seemed to at least slow down the what-if stuff. We'll see how it goes from here on out.

Being healthy is making me...unhealthy

I've always had a bit of a weight problem. At least as far back as I can remember I've been a little heavy. Not obese (at least, not grossly) but not skinny either. Of course, if you were to ask the government I'm somewhere between obese and morbidly obese. Of course, so is Arnold Schwarz...you know who I mean.

After my last episode which was about a year ago, I got down to probably the lightest weight I've ever been. This was mostly due to my inability to eat for fear of ingesting one-too-many grams of salt and dying of an aneurysm. And then, through the summer, I stayed at that weight through exercise and good clean livin...ok...through exercise.

Now that its the 'off season' I'm not riding near as much and I'm gaining it back. The wife and I were talking today about going off our meds to lose weight.

Its sad really. Its like we have to choose between mental health and physical health. I'll try and diet more and exercise more but the reality is, I'm just not worried enough about it to do anything.

Its one of those problems like too much money or too many women that just don't seem like problems to those without.

Oh chili, how I hate thee

We had a chili cook-off today at work. Me being a vegetarian I didn't think I'd have an issue. Especially since I'd be eating only my own recipe. Turns out the problem wasn't the chili it was the cake, cookies, brownies, potato chips, cheese, corn bread, more brownies, some sort of key-lime concoction, more brownies and lord knows what else.

Ugh.

Chocolate = cancer

I have a tendency to "notice" things. By noticing something I mean that all of a sudden I'm freaked out by things like, oh I don't know, looking at my own face in a mirror, or become aware that I'm breathing. You know, odd things.

For example, today I "noticed" that I had a brown spot between my eyes on the bridge of my nose. For a moment I panicked. Was this a liver spot, a spontaneous bruise, a sore, skin cancer?

I then licked my finger and rubbed it and it came off.

This is hypochondria at its finest. I am afraid of a chocolate mark on my forehead.