I ended my relationship with painkillers today. Our breakup was not unlike those of previous romances — it was sad, we had our tearful goodbyes and then we went our separate ways. It was followed by that similar feeling where I’m not really interested in jumping back into bed with another drug for a while. Although, it has been quite a trip these last few days; most of the time I was high as a zeppelin and just as volatile. I must say, I have to thank Diflunisal, my little reliquary of ecstasy. They helped me through some hard times, even if they also created some in the process.

You see ecstasy always comes with a price, these pills of righteousness bound and gagged my pain quite sufficiently, but they left baggage. As the pain melted away, so did my cognitive abilities. My thinking, talking, and emotions were casualties of my war on pain. Ironically, part of the reason I had to take these sabotaging tablets was to help me concentrate on my massively immense workload. In my defense, I only drooled once during business hours. As I mentioned above, tears were shed. Diflunisal is a depressant and it truly lived up to its name. Even though I had no thoughts of jumping into a barrel full of starved piranha, there were many times I was consumed with an unrelenting heaviness that wore on me deep inside. My enemy of enemies, regret, came back with unimaginable force, pounding in my head, trying to break me, for what seemed like ages. Other times, perhaps due to the nature of the beast, I was mellowed out to a point of perfect contemplation, often lost within a haze of melancholy. Any art produced within these spells would have been wondrously foreign, that is if I had the ability to focus on anything external.

Many times I laughed out loud, to what must have seemed very odd to the casual observer; the laugh would come upon the realization that I was a living breathing space cadet. While on my space cadet voyages people would rudely interrupt to ask me something, usually of great importance. As the message traveled slowly through the dark emptiness of space towards me, my brain, which had now popped out of my body to grow its own arms and legs, frantically tried to process what was being said a trillion miles away, then finally it just looked back at me and shrugged. At that moment I knew it was time to toss my brain back in my head, sans arms and legs, and click my heals once or twice to snap myself back into reality, if only for a few minutes to figure out what the hell I should be doing…and who I was.

So, today, I am drug-free…well almost. Still poppin’ the antibiotics for another few days. But, I must confess, I woke up extremely cheerful today. And the feeling never really left me. I blame some of it on the Mountain Dew I had at lunch, but for the most part, I finally broke free of that melancholy haze. I had a productive day at work and ended it with an art show at Chapman university wherein I chatted it up with some design professionals — rubbin’ elbows with professors, deans of colleges, and a plethora of artists as a whole. For the first time, I felt like a professional designer outside the workplace. I’ve found my niche. I’m in the right place, doing the right thing, and damn if it doesn’t feel fantastic.


Current mood: elated
Currently listening: Animaniacs: 16 Original Songs By Richard Stone


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