As the drugs start to work the large red flags that had been flapping in the wind become quite apparent.

Red Flag #1: “Gee I wish I could stay at home and undertake craft projects”

Red Flag #2: “Sure, Chef has worked all day, standing up in front of a hot stove, then got home and made dinner, bathed children, done homework with them and cleaned up the kitchen, but I just wish he’d help me a bit more. Like, he could have at least hung out the washing.”

Red Flag #3: “My hair isn’t that dirty”

Red Flag #4: “I wonder if anyone would notice if I wore the same pants to work two days in a row?”

Red Flag #5: “I don’t care if it’s 1am, I have to get this washing done/ironing done/lounge room cleaned up/eyebrows plucked”

Red Flag #6: (after keeping a food diary all day indicating the complete opposite) “Well I fucked it by eating that chocolate this morning so I might as well eat a jumbo packet of chips on the way home. And maybe I’ll wash it down with a Fanta.”

Red Flag #7: “I really want to learn how to sew.”

Red Flag #8: “I’m really upset I can’t knit.”

Red Flag #9: “I want to make a quilt.”

Red Flag #10 through #eleventy hundred: Crying all the time. Being angry all.the.time. When not angry, being so quick to anger it was impressive if not highly frightening. Feeling on edge all.the.time. Finding it very very difficult to see anything positive, ever. An impending sense of doom.

Realising perhaps not everyone has a constant swirling internal monologue going on and on and on and on. A bit like this really.

We’re only on Day 4 of the new drug regime, so I’m still feeling the love of lock jaw, the occasional shakes from the tension/anxiety, heightened anxiety and upset guts, but that fog – it’s cleared so markedly already I am shocked at how bad I was (and how boring it must have been to you all to listen/read it).

I feel a vague sensation to do a blog equivalent of a Cruise lounge jump in the euphoria of feeling so much better in my head, but realise that may only relegate me heightened nutbag status for many of you. But coupled with a bizarre and sad resignation to the fact my brain just doesn’t really like working properly on its own is a child like “weeeeeeeee” at just feeling normal.