I'm broken

Hi. I'm Noah and I used to write a blog. 


That might be a fallacious statement. 


I'm a guy and sometimes I wrote shit online. Some people claimed to like it. A lot of people complained about it. But in the end, I was simply too lazy to write more. Now something is bothering me and I guess I'm about to be one of those friends. You know the ones. The ones who you don't hear from for forever and suddenly one day, out-of-the-blue, they call you just to ask for a favor. Or to complain about something. Well, I guess that's me right now. 

Me

In my previous life Several months ago, I wrote about my insomnia (Maybe I Should Start Making Soap) but didn't feel the need to tell you WHY I have insomnia. You didn't ask. I assumed you didn't care. It is however relevant to this post. You see, my doctor seemed content to simply prescribe drugs until one day I went in and said "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to just take drugs. I just want to feel better. I just want to be normal." 

If you Google "normal" 3 of the first 5 pictures are of a cervix. So I decided a broken jpg would be a better "normal". 

Well, I sat with my doctor and we talked for a long time. I don't know if her answer made me feel any better or if it made everything worse. There's a saying "Better the devil you know, than the devil you don't." We decided I had the following symptoms: Chronic physical signs of hyperarousal, sleep problems, trouble concentrating, irritability, anger, poor concentration, difficulty remembering things, increased tendency and reaction to being startled, and hypervigilance (excessive watchfulness). Once it was all spelled out in front of me, I wondered why I didn't see it sooner:  PTSD. It took a long time for me to even believe it was a possibility. A lot of people have been through things so much worse than me and they don't have any issues, I don't have the right to have this problem. I have been reluctant to discuss this with people as I haven't wanted to have to explain myself. Worried that people would think I have some mental condition. There is a stigma about this kind of thing. Now I'm just pouring out to you and potentially everyone (anyone?) in the hopes that it will somehow make me feel better. 

Try not to judge me. You don't know what I've been through

Of the symptoms, some are worse than others. Insomnia being the CONSTANT daily reminder that something is wrong with me. After that, hypervigilance is a big deal for me. Now somethings naturally make this a lot worse. For example, I woke up to this yesterday:

That's my truck minus a window and an iPod. 

The thing is, I KNOW there is nothing I can do. I have lived all over and I've been the victim of auto break-ins several times. I like nice things. If you have nice things, people who don't will want them. Some of those people will do anything to get them. I'm not rich. I work hard for the nice things I have. It sucks when people just TAKE. And my window getting smashed just adds insult-to-injury.  

I had a pair of these in front of the truck in the garage. I think these are what they came for

Now the problem is that I am now super paranoid that someone is breaking into my garage. So much so that its 3:45am and I've been down to the garage twice to check because I was sure I heard something. I'm also nowhere near tired. WIRED. WIDE AWAKE. I have no anti-axiety drugs or sleep meds because my doctor felt it was okay to tell my family about my condition and what I was taking. Not in a "Hey, you need to know this." kind of way, but in a "You'll never guess what's wrong with him." way. 

It doesn't specifically say "Gossipy Bitch", but I think its covered 

But I digress. How to feel better. How to cope. My experience with my shitty doctor doesn't exactly make me want to seek more medical advice. Recently the Department of Defense sent me a letter saying that my records indicate I was in a service environment that it has determined "may have contributed to service related conditions". They want me to come in and be evaluated. Excuse me for being skeptical, but this doesn't sound like a great idea to me. 

Free jacket with evaluation! 

Um...Pass. No thanks. 

I guess I will just stay awake and suffer. Letting the scum of society steal the few material possessions I've managed to accrue over a lifetime of hard work. 

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Send drugs to my PO Box:

11333 Moorpark St #186

Studio City, CA 91602

Private comments always welcome. 

-El Mathedor