I have had temporal confusion before, but never like this.

Somehow, I got my AM and PM mixed up so bad that until a couple of minutes ago, I thought it was 9:35 AM and its 9:36 PM.

That means that when I thought I was having breakfast at 6:22 am, I was having supper. at 6:22 PM. My whole world just jumped twelve hours and quite frankly I am fucking freaking out about it right now.

What the hell was I doing all day, then? Somewhere along the line, I lost twelve hours of my life. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

Intellectually (boy I use that word a lot), I know that it must all add up and that all that really happened was that I went to sleep in the afternoon and woke up when it was dark and my mind leapt to the wrong conclusion.

But that’s logic and I am not feeling very logical right now. Instead, I am feeling scared, dislocated, unstable, and like I want ot go back to sleep and see if things make sense again when I wake up.

In retrospect, this has been coming on for weeks. I have been having incidents like this but at a much lower intensity even since the first of the month. At least four or five times a week, I have been finding myself having a moment when I don’t know which end of the day I am in, and I then have to deduce the answer before the memory comes back and I am in sync once more.

But that was peanuts compared to this. I can’t evenj be sure when the inversion happened. To me, it really feels like I skipped half a day. I don’t remember what I did for most of today, the 22nd of February, 2019.

I can only hope that with time, the fear will subside and the fog will clear and I will be able to repair my fractured consciousness so that I can be whole again.

Or at least no more broken than usual.

This kind of thing can’t keep happening. It’s too hard on my poor nerves. I am in a state of shock right now. I am trembling from the shock of it all and I feel dizzy and tingly and a little bit nauseous and I really wish I could make things be normal again.

I sure as heck don’t feel like blogging. And yet, in another way, I do feel like blogging, because at least this forces me to slow my thoughts down and put them in order. And it lets me express all this panic I am feeling.

And it’s just not fair, you know? I keep trying to put together something like a stable and happy mindset but every time I get close, something like this happens to completely shatter my sense of security and make me feel cold and small and terrified again.

I have to wonder whether my subconscious mind is a far more terrifying opponent than I every imagined if it is willing and able to do such extreme things in order to scare me into not rocking the boat any more.

What’s next? Active psychosis?

Right now, I reallty wish I had someone who could just hold me tight. They wouldn’t even have to say anything reassuring. In fact, I would prefer they did not, for I am in no mood to be reassured by words. What I need is to hold on tight to someone and feel their warmth and solidity and nearness and know that they are real and I am real and the world is real and everything is going to be okay.

But I don’t have anyone like that in my life. I don’t know if I ever will. I feel like I am doomed to wander the cold dark tundra of my mind naked and defenceless till the end of time, or at least my frozen lonely death.

Was it ever warm? Could their really have been a time when I didn’t feel this way? Right now it is hard to even imagine it.

Intellectually (ding!), I know that I have felt good before, or at least okay. In fact, I felt reasonable good as recently as yesterday afternoon, during therapy. I bounced into therapy feeling pretty good, probably mostly due to the lovely sunshine.

The evidence is piling up that I have a solar powered mood.

And now it is 10:07 pm and I was really looking forward to getting together with my friends for Subway or whatever in around an hour and a half but now I know I can’t go because I am just plain too freaked out and can’t imagine facing the world in this state.

I can barely imagine facing the rest of the apartment.

So now I have to call Joe and tell me that I can’t go out tonight and ask him to get some things from 7-11 for me.

And that is also not an easy thing to do when I am in this emotional state. But it is still easier than having to get dressed and go out into the bright loud socially stimulating world, with all its chaos and randomness and jarring sensations.

And I wish it wasn’t this way. Especially because I missed Tuesday’s hang out time due to a pretty bad IBS attack like an hour before I would have left.

Which might well have been psychosomatic. I hate to admit it, but it may be that on some level, I have gone back to making myself sick in order to justify isolating myself. In a way, it’s just a different way of having a panic.

One that comes with a guarateed escape from the tension causing the panic in the first place. As con jobs go, it is very efficient.

God I wish that life/the Universe/my goddamned mind would leave me the fuck alone.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.