Long Time, No See, part 2

Brian calls often, but I can never pick up because he either calls during work or when I'm busy. I try to pick up at least once a week when I can (seriously, he calls a lot, and once a week is my best - it's nuts), because I've finally gotten to the point where I'm past the hurtful things he said to me in a schizophrenic rage, and past the avoidance phase, and I actually miss him. And this coincided nicely with him being hospitalized and going back on the medication, which brought him from raving lunatic, to chattering non-stop about things that don't make sense (even by Brian standards), to chattering non-stop about things making a little more Brian-like sense, to finally pausing occasionally to allow for conversation.

I went to visit him at Rochester Psychiatric Center (RPC) on Friday. I haven't been there in about 8 years, since visiting my friend Keegan. When I visited Keegan, I was ushered into a large room, like a prison visitation room, with lots of tables and folks visiting at each one. Visiting Brian was different.

I had to take a small labyrinth to get to where I could visit him. Brian came toward me with excitement and handed me his headphones and CD player, and told me to hold this while he ran to get his stuff, as an orderly unlocked the music room for us to visit in.

He was excited that I brought him coffee. It made me happy to see him enjoy something, instead of spitting and dumping it. He emptied a pillowcase full of papers and notebooks and books onto the table, being careful of the coffee, and showed me a bunch of things he was working on. Reading a couple of Plath books, writing a new novel (he's a good writer, and his books are popular among his friends), and he even drew me a valentine, in case I didn't get to see him again this month. It was so sweet.

I let him do most of the talking, and he talked about angelic items in his throat - a cupid's bow on one side, and seraphim on the other. He even touched me to show me on my own neck, which is a really big deal - he doesn't touch. He'll tap you on the arm or leg or something to get your attention or something, but other than that, he doesn't touch and doesn't like being touched, so yeah. Really big deal. I admit, with his fingers and thumb at either side of my trachea, I did think for a nanosecond that he might choke me.

But he didn't. And the conversation was really nice. Like we were back at sitting outside Java's and not in some sterile room being monitored.

It was so nice, I might just go back this week.

Cheater Cheater Anxiety Eater

John holds a Super Bowl party every year at his house. I attended my first one two years ago, when it was held at Ron's house, because John was too sick to throw a party. Last year, I stayed home, feeling unwelcome and unloved and just throwing a fit to the point where I declared it a video-game weekend in my fortress of solitude (I made a blanket fort in front of the tv).

I expected to gorge myself, so I started early with chocolate and candy I got at Xmas. The sugar diagnosis turned out: don't care for chocolates anymore, except Lindt. And I still love Starbursts and Skittles.

At the party, I ate pizza. So much delicious pizza. And butter crackers! I miss those! I had an assortment of other foods I'd not normally eat. It made me so happy. Until it got crowded.

I tried very hard to stay in low-traffic areas, because I felt myself getting stressed about being crowded. There were children at the party. Only three, but one was a hyper-active kid. I mean, this kid's blood must have been made of pure cocaine! Now, I'm a social introvert, so I love people, but sometimes it drains me. Just watching this kid jump off anything he could climb upon drained me of any energy I had. I started to stress out over being around people.

At one point, getting a soda from the fridge, I got bombarded by two people - two friends, one to whom I feel close enough that if he did accidentally pin me between himself and the open fridge, I wouldn't mind. But today? I started to panic. I ducked and dodged and shouted, "please don't crowd me!" as I slid my way to the safety of an open corner.

I found myself seeking lone spots around the house, while still trying to remain slightly social. There was a teenage couple at the party who wanted a moment of privacy, too, so anywhere I went, they seemed to deliberately follow, which put further pressure on me. I started shaking with anxiety. I never thought I'd have an anxiety attack among friends.

After the amazing half-time show, Charles got my coat and purse and we took our leave. I felt really bad, but at least I wasn't stressing anymore. And I got to eat all that delicious food!