The Anatomy of a Really Bad Morning

3:08am

Was the time displayed on my macbook’s clock last night before I finally decided to call it a day and sleep despite being awake since 7 in the morning the day before. Another battle with insomnia compounded with panic attacks and anxiety I summarily lost.

4:14 am

The time on the clock when I realized I’ve been lying in bed for over an hour, shifting troublesomely while thinking about things such as:

“My heart is racing, is this a heart attack?”
“I already have a memo for tardiness, I have to make sure I set my alarm.”
“I wonder if I’m entitled to a Christmas bonus. If not, I’m fucked.”
“Seriously my heartbeat’s getting weird, I really think this is a heart attack.”

4:27, 4:42, 5:12am

Were the times I saw on my clock as I intermittently woke up throughout the night. At this point, I realized that almost two years of therapy for my anxiety disorder didn’t do shit.

Therapy Flashback:

Session 1:

Shrink: Hi, how can I help you?

Me: I think im suffering from panic attacks.

Shrink: hmmm. Do you have any vices? Do you drink? Do you smoke?

Me: I smoke and I also–

Shrink: There’s your problem. Quit smoking. [writing prescription] and take two of these ridiculously over-priced pills everyday.
Session 2:

Shrink: How have you been?

Me: Doc, I don’t think the pills are working, and I think I’ve gotten worse. This morning, I tried to rip off my left arm and wanted to smash my car’s windshield with it.

Shrink: That’s because you can’t quit smoking. [writes prescription] Continue taking these ridiculously expensive drugs, and because I don’t like you, take three of them everyday.

Session 3:

Shrink: How have you been?

Me: Whenever I watch TV and see people kissing or hugging, I feel the urge to cry. Is this normal?

Shrink: That’s because you can’t quit smoking. [writes prescription] Continue taking these ridiculously expensive drugs. Oh and get an even more expensive thyroid scan. Bye, see you next week.

Session 4:

Shrink: How have you been?

Me: I tried to kill myself by popping 20 of the pills you prescribed. Didn’t work, I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I punched my mother in the face for no reason. She cried. What now?

Shrink: That’s because you can’t quit smoking. [writes prescription] Try this extended release anti-depressant. I heard it works better. I also heard it’s more expensive.

Session 5:

Shrink: How have you been?

Me: I just lost 20 thousand pesos in a card game. I got really pissed so I burned our kitchen down and drove my car off a bridge. Also, you’re the worst shrink ever and If you weren’t so hot and if I didn’t have fantasies involving me fingerblasting the fuck out of you and doing you from behind, I would stop seeing you.

Shrink: That’s because you can’t quit smoking. Oh and please don’t stop seeing me, I’m making a fortune out of you.

6:34 am

The time I finally said “fuck sleep,” got out of bed and got ready for work. (I usually get ready for work around 7:30am)

7:45 am

Was the time I got into my car to drive to work.

75

Was the number of minutes I crawled through a 2 kilometer stretch of road in Commonwealth avenue.

3 minutes

Is the amount of time this usually takes.

10:46am

Was the time I got to the Shell Service Station in Katipunan Avenue to relieve my bladder after getting stuck in traffic for over two hours.

9.7

Is the level of hatred, on a scale of 1 to 10, I felt for an obese, elderly man who held up the line to the service station urinal. Seriously, it probably took him 20 minutes to finish his business while I and a bunch of people lined up outside the comfort room door grabbing our crotches and trying not to wet our pants. This got me very pissed off and led to this imaginary repartee in my head:

Me: [losing it] “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! How much longer are you going to take?!”

Fat elderly man: [From inside the comfort room] “Give me a break son, I’m 78 years old and I’m having trouble pulling my pants up (presumably because he’s fat)”

Me: [Even more pissed off] “Well maybe if you didn’t eat so many fucking Crispy Patas you wouldn’t have any trouble urinating and pulling your pants up you fucking fossilized school bus!”

124

was the number of minutes I was late for work.

5

was the number of times I was corrected by a teammate in our staff meeting for misstating statistics of projects I was working on. Misstatements I made due to utter incompetence, hatred and exhaustion from the trip to work.

Nov200713

Mikey

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