I realized what I really meant was 1) go directly, immediately, purposefully to the Klonopin. 2) Dump everything green or orange from the fridge into the blender. 3) Drink. 4) Write through it.
So, spinach and green bell peppers and oranges and orange juice whipped up a smoothie so large I am drinking it out of a plastic flower vase. It is delicious. Green smoothies are a yummy, mojo-renewing thing. Sometimes I'm jealous of people who have killer juicers as I chew spinach shreds, but my smoothies have the fiber. So onto the Klonopin-needing:
I'm in a whirlwind of clashing priorities. The household chaos of clutter and distractions is like an actual entity full of malevolence. Its wholeness is preventing me from breaking it down into doable tasks. On a daily basis, I wish to burn the whole effing thing to the ground and start over. Then the girl comes to me demanding McDonald's & TV and I read that as "Mommy, you FAIL. You have already permanently screwed me. Give up now."
And so the normal workaday shit people don't even think about has me all fetal and whimpering.
The thesis statement of all my panic attacks: I suck at being normal.
Now that the clonazepam clarity has me living for the duration of the dose in the world of logic, I'm going to take a few minutes to make bite-size lists of things that I can do to streamline all the normal, mundane crap so I can make room to be the genius blogger and rarefied artiste we all know I can be if the goddamn laundry weren't in the way.
- laundry schedule & clothing purge
- grazy healthy kidlet snacks
- time to build my abs to hold straight the crazyspine
- mad genius illustrator auteur