Contemporaneous: Chapters’ 8 – 12.
8. I wake too early like I ‘ve done every day since I was on antidepressants for five years over twenty years ago, and they fucked with my sleep, and even now, even with them clean from my system, the side-effects they introduce remain. Grabbing my phone from the bedside drawer where my clock radio sits, I check it, tensing as I expect some Lana diatribe. Sometimes she does that, sending me an essay detailing why I’ve behaved so poorly, a guided tour into my inadequacies that immerses me in guilt that overwhelms any equilibrium I have, until all that remains is the doubt that maybe, just maybe, I…
Sixteen
Most days, I’ll walk to work, which takes about twenty-five minutes. I’ll follow a roundabout route home to add another ten or fifteen minutes to the walk. Being unable to run and limited with what I can do due to the damage to my right leg, walking’s one of the few things I can do as exercise. It also helps to spend some physical energy. Getting to sleep is never easy, but it’s always harder on days I don’t walk. Like many writers, I’m a tea-drinker. The schedule at work is regimented: it’ll usually be three throughout the workday (two in the morning, and one in the afternoon). Once I…