Monday, February 9, 2015


I've stepped out of the fog again.  After spending the weekend at Camp Widow, and coming home to the subsequent crash of emotions and a good night's sleep, I finally feel some fire in me.  I'm not really feeling any enthusiasm for work; it still fucking sucks, but my desire to do some things is ramping up, and I can physically feel it.

I know what I need right now, and I need to spit it out as I'm thinking of it.

I need to be "adrenalized".  I need some intensity.  I need to throw some weight around and grunt and yell and listen to some goddamned angry music.  I need to be fucking sweaty and tired and broken.  I need to throw a medicine ball through a goddamned brick wall.  I need my eyes to sting from sweat and tears at the same time.  I need to collapse in a heap on the cold rubber floor of the gym, then drag my ass off of it and crank out some pullups.  I need to start bawling in the middle of the workout, and have everyone look at me and think they should stay the fuck away, like a doberman that just got a broken leg that will bite the first thing that comes near.  I need beast mode.  I need to work so hard that my hands bleed from all of the ripped callouses.  I need to be younger, so I can re-join the Marine Corps, go overseas, and rain motherfucking fire down again.  I need the type of euphoria that you can only get from one other thing.  Most of all, I need my wife back, so I can wear her the fuck out, hit the bottom and tear up the sides, and make her walk funny for two days and still ask for more...shit.

I'm addicted to adrenaline.  But it's a certain kind.  The kind that's triggered from the "fight" side of the flight or fight response.  I can't be "scared" into it.  I need to force myself into it.  I need to push myself off of that bridge.  There isn't a pill available that's going to give me this feeling.    

The fucking prozac had killed this drive off for awhile (I'll write more about it later), but it's back, baby.  Yeah, I'll have more bad days too, but I know what drug fixes it.  Goddamned adrenaline.  If Sunday night was bad, Monday evening fixes it right up, and it lasts for days. If Megan left me with one thing, it was her fucking intensity, and it only added to mine. 

It's so nice to be back on the roller coaster, because while it has its ups and downs, it never ceases to adrenalize me. 

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