Control: A Day Lost

I, Dalton Lewis, found myself waking up at five pm the other day and realized how ridiculous that made me. Switching to a better schedule meant staying up the entire following day — which meant not taking my nighttime pills until the end of that next day. That meant that my pills weren’t as successful at fighting the schizophrenia yesterday.

I felt fine at first. I ate breakfast as the meds faded from my system. I ate IHOP and asked for extra butter for the pancakes. Wow. I then took an uber to Old School Forest Preserve and walked through the track. I had trouble making it through a normal walk because I weighed too much. I went from exercise to exercise along the track, not paying enough attention to look for the deer that frequent the forest. I huffed and puffed and barely made it there and back. I finished my walk and then waited patiently for an uber. I kept thinking, my life sucks, I’m getting framed, I’m going to die, everyone thinks that I’m guilty.

I went home. I don’t remember much but know that I slept a little, but my mind raced on overdrive without the medications that slow down my brain to control the schizophrenia. I died, I died, and I died over and over in my head, in various ways, murder, dying, and screaming that I was innocent and no one listening. Around two thirty I needed to wake up and take a shower and go to my therapist, Lyle. I showered and put on clean clothes and went to see him. He smiled and talked to me about how to try to lose weight. We wanted me to take more walks and eat fewer unhealthy meals. After therapy I went back to Red Top Plaza and sat at the Warhammer store. I bought and built some chaos space marines, giving them chainswords and bolt pistols because the melee attacks of marines went up and the cost went down.

I sat there, building miniatures, and feeling more and more crazy. I died in my head, over and over. The manager didn’t seem to notice or feel offended that I didn’t do well. I wanted to see a movie but couldn’t manage to see one. I built the ten chaos space marines but couldn’t find a chainsword for the last one so I built a flamer for him. I figured that I could flip them out later when I went home — and one of the aspiring champions also needed a chainaxe to be perfect.

I went home after that and don’t remember much of anything to be honest. My mom was sick from a cold and could hardly speak she was so hoarse. I sat there, in my room, waiting for the meds to kick in and knock me to sleep. They did that: after taking the meds I felt normal, the voices quieted a bit, and I went to sleep.

I woke up to get my blood drawn and everything felt normal again — a day of craziness hadn’t changed me, changed anything, or destroyed my mind or body. I just sat around, ranting in my head for another day, and the following day nothing had changed. Life goes on.

Thanks, and take care, friends.