Today’s been kind of shite.

But first, we will back up a bit.

I forgot to ask my therapist for more Zopiclone on Thursday. To be fair, he should have asked. Anyhow. As I have certain social issues, it took me until Saturday to work up the nerve to call him to ask for more.

I got his voice-mail. Frankly, in social anxiety terms, that was actually preferably. I am not proud to admit that, but there it is. I left him a voice-mail explaining that I forgot to ask for another prescription for Zopiclone on Thursday, and that I was worried that it was not the sort of thing that one should go cold turkey on, so I needed more before I saw him next Thursday.

A few hours later, he called back. He told me to go ask the pharmacy for an emergency prescription to see me through to Thursday, because he did not do phone prescriptions. And not to worry about going cold turkey from Zopiclone, it was perfectly safe, I just “wouldn’t sleep”.

And being who and how I am, I did not realize how angry I was about his lack of assistance and his offloading the responsibility onto me and especially about his flippant attitude towards the prospect of me not sleeping for five fucking days.

So he is going to get an earful and a half when I see him on Thursday. I am seriously pissed off at him. How dare he make me have to go basically beg for pills in order to stay healthy and get some sleep? Especially since he knows I have serious issues with asking for things and assertiveness in general? How dare he suggest that lack of sleep is nothing to worry about, when he was the one who put me on Zopiclone in the first place specifically because I complained of not being able to sleep.

And said, at the time, “Oh, we better take care of that. If you can’t sleep, nothing else works. ” He seemed to think it was a serious problem then. But now that I called him on a Saturday, when he’s at home, suddenly it is no big deal to go sleepless for almost a week? Fuck THAT.

And I have been through the whole “emergency prescription” thing before, when I ran out of pills. The pharmacists are really, really, really reluctant to give you one, and look at you like you are a homeless junkie trying to pull a scam on them for some free methadone or some shit, and it is like pulling teeth to get them to do it.

And when you are socially awkward and anxious like I am, with a specific issue with asking people for things because of childhood experiences being punished for asking for things, to even call the doctor in the first place and ask for more Zopiclone was extremely hard. To then be casually dismissed (just like my parents used to do!), as if my needs were unimportant and what happened to me really did not mean two shits to the person I am asking, was really emotionally brutal to me.

It certainly did not put me in the right frame of mind to be able to go over to the pharmacy in person and ask for yet another thing from a person in authority, one I already know is going to greet the request with suspicion bordering on hostility.

That is just not in the cards for me right now. I just cannot do it. Not after getting the brush-off from my therapist, whom I am supposed to be able to trust completely so I can open up to them, and rely on them to be on my side in a crisis.

Well he wasn’t there for me when I needed him, and that, sadly, adds a substantial amount of weight to the the “misanthropy” side of the scale for me. I have been trying to fight this misanthropic mistrust of people as unreliable and weak for my whole life, and I really did not need an incident like this pushing me more towards bitter cynicism right now.

I already have trouble trusting people. But you know that already, Doc. I told you.

Anyhow, as it turns out, I can sleep without the Zopiclone, it is just a little harder to get to sleep.

As a result, today was a Very Sleepy Day. I slept more or less the whole day, from 8 am to 8 pm, with only a token waking period to eat a terrible lunch.

Had an interesting dream. As usual, took place in an informed-attribute version of my home town of Summerside, Prince Edward Island. I was trying to get home from someplace, and I was really eager to get home (a very common theme in my dreams), and so I started to take shortcuts through restaurants.

And these were very fancy restaurants. There was a very minimalist chic “tablecloths and candlelight” type of restaurant, and another super tony restaurant was done in the style of a Japanese rock garden. I actually hopped along the stones like they were stepping stones in that one.

In fact, the longer this went on, the more it stopped being like just taking a shortcut and the more it become like I was desperately eluding pursuit. I took more and more extreme measures to speed my travel, like barging through kitchens, going out fire exits, and weaving around people and waiters.

And even in the dream, I wondered “When did my little home town get all these fancy restaurants? And where the heck am I? I know my home town pretty well, and I have no idea where they would even put this kind of concentration of restaurants I have never seen before. ”

Eventually, I started getting really freaked out. Like, getting to the “animal fear” level of being freaked out, where you have practically no rational thought left, just anxiety.

So I just stopped and sat down at a random table at one of the restaurants, trying to catch my breath and get out of this weird ice cold fear, weirdly reptilian frame of mind. I think on some level I was also thinking “They will never expect this!”, whoever “they” were.

Things get a little fragmented after that. I remember seeing people I know come in, and slinking off to a dark corner so as not to be seen… yet. Because the really weird thing is, I wanted these people to find me, but just not yet. Like this whole thing had just been a childish stunt to punish them and make them worry about me because of something they had done to make me angry at them, and to see if they cared enough to come looking for me.

This is particularly interesting when I am having problems with trust, and feeling like nobody cares about me enough to put in any effort on my behalf.

after that, it became weird dreams about food, with a bunch of incidents of accidentally eating food meant for someone else, but not seemingly to really care either.

Then, of course, I woke up with low blood sugar and had to do the zombie walk to the kitcehn in order to get some food into me and regain my humanity before I die.

That is suall what eating dreams mean for me.

Meh. There is more, but I am bored with myself, so that is all for now.