I spent the time from midnight until about 3 PM behind the computer, with the exception of the time I spent walking the Überhund. It was too much and I had to force myself to shut it off and walk away from it. It was an abnormal amount of time to spend behind the computer and changing my imago several times turned out to be very difficult too. I had a hard time with that. My whole identity laid in that name and when I changed it and kept changing it, I kept loosing little bits of myself, until I became a bit lost, well, a lot lost. I got to the point that it scared me. So I turned the computer off.
Then I realized that I was hitting a huge low and I don't know if it was from the lack of sleep or from changing my identity, but I felt terrible and was afraid to go near the computer again. I decided to take a sleeping pill and try and get some sleep, in the hope that I would feel better after I woke up, but sometime after I took it, my sister called to tell me that she couldn't make it to our divorce party, because she had another commitment.
I explained to her that I had been up since midnight and that I was trying to sleep, but that it wasn't working, but I never know what I can expect of her, so I expect nothing. Afterwards, I cried and felt like shit and decided to call the Exfactor who had his phone turned off. Now, for some reason, when he is spending time with the Paramount he shuts his phone off so nobody can reach him, which I think is very immature. It is as if none of us are allowed to know that he is spending time with the Paramount and have conversations with him then.
So, feeling deeply distressed, I called the Paramount, who handed her phone to the Exfactor right away, who pretended not to know that his phone was not turned on. Of course, he couldn't do a thing for me, not even talk properly, so I said I would call the Crisis Phone and get help there, which I did.
I got a nice enough professional to talk to and felt somewhat better when I got off the phone. It was a better experience than it was the time before. This man listened and asked smart questions and understood right away what my fear was, that I was afraid of becoming manic, and we talked about ways to prevent that from happening.
Finally the sleeping pill started to work and I slept for about an hour or so, but it was enough. I still have that fear that my identity is lost to me and I don't know what to do about it, except to reverse things as much as possible. I think I have crossed a line into a, for me, uncomfortable area that's too far removed from my center and I feel afraid. The title of my blog is too abstract and the image is too alien to me. I am moving into uncharted waters and I am afraid to drown and I want to go back to the comfortable shore.
I could do this for somebody else, but I can't do it for me. I can't be avant garde for me. It has to do with who I am and how I perceive myself emotionally and intellectually. I suppose I can be a Vincent van Gogh, but not an Andy Warhol. I need solidness and reality, at least van Gogh's kind. That's how far I have evolved.
There, I have changed things back to The Choppy Sunflower. Which is where they should have stayed in the first place. Change for the sake of change is not always good, in my case it isn't.
This day will go down in my personal history as a day of infamy. The whole thing reeks of embarrassment to me. Of lessons learned the very hard way, never to be repeated again.