My Crazy Co-Pilot

After yet another shitty weather day on Wednesday, the sun came blazing out at exactly 6:55 pm. I enjoyed twenty minutes of spectacular light before clouds on the horizon turned it off.

I’m underway on the marble dress and I had no anxiety going into this one because I’m really pleased with the concept and it’s a simple execution. I’ll be working on it every day and I’ll post a photo when there is something worthy of your view.

I watched this video yesterday that is totally weird and stupid and I laughed my face off at the horror of it all the first time I watched it.

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Imagine that your body is an airplane. Your conscious mind is the pilot; your unconscious mind is the co-pilot. Normally, the pilot and co-pilot experience constant communication via their headsets; they co-ordinate and verify each other’s every action.

I told Dr. Shoja that my experience with living with C-PTSD is like flying a plane with no communication with my co-pilot who is on bad drugs.

I have always had trouble with intersections since becoming crazy. On Tuesday, on my way to Dr. Shoja, when I arrived at Howe and Davie, my arms shot up. My hands were stiff against my shoulders. It was like suddenly getting a cramp; it took about twenty seconds for me to get them to come down.

I suspect that soon I’ll be talking to Dr. Shoja about upping the Cipralex to ten mgs (from five).

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