Cindy the Zombie

Is this what ADD people feel like when they are properly medicated?

I am so overwhelmed that I feel like parts of my brain have shut off. That’s what Ritalin does: it overly stimulates the brain so that the hyper part turns off completely. I am emotionally numb. In some ways, I have clarity, it seems like, by default. When you’re in the middle of a hurricane, you don’t worry about sweeping the kitchen.

My car is having problems. My parents haven given me one of their cars. (OMG. What would I do without them?) I have the mammogram and ultrasound next week. The realtor is coming by Tuesday. My best friend is disapproving of my behavior while my life is in meltdown mode. It’s not as if Barry’s health is improving. I still need to have my old car fixed and the dealership has not returned my call. Sleep is a hit-and-miss proposition.

There are so many things that need to get done that I can by continuously busy and not come near getting the things done that need to be by the time they should be. At the end of the day, I am exhausted and capable of no more. Then I have to let that go.

I realized a few days ago that I must let go of everything. No exceptions. Hopes, dreams, expectations of stability. Gone. I think I now understand one of Atisha’s slogans, “Abandon hope.” Why? Hope puts expectations on the future, which you may or may not have. Can a person live without hope? Not well, in my opinion, but sometimes you simply cannot look down the road, especially if you are not sure you have a road.

I am left wondering what, if anything, will remain in six months. Will I remain? When the dust settles, what will be left?

I cannot imagine living like this indefinitely, if you can call this “living” by any definition. I am a zombie, doing what I can from moment to moment. Is this how a lot of people live?

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About cdhoagpurple

I live in Michigan. I was Greek Orthodox (and previously Protestant), but now am more Buddhist than anything. I am single now (through the till-death-do-you-part clause of the marriage contract). My husband Barry was a good man and celebrated 30 years in AA. I am overly educated, with an MBA. My life felt terminally in-limbo while caring for a sick husband, but I am free now. I see all things as being in transition. Impermanence is the ultimate fact of life. Nothing remains the same, good or bad.

One response to “Cindy the Zombie”

  1. Ninasusan says :

    I hope it’s not. What is there for a stranger to say other than your desperation hurts my heart!

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