Summer's passing. So is my lonely life. Taking stock from my bunker on the hill.

Good morning.  I'm 69.  I have no family.  I have no friends who would notice within a week that I had died.  I'm going back on anti-depressants this week after rich, enjoyable, and ultimately unsuccessful mental health journeys with ketamine, MDMA, equine therapy, microdosing, IFS parts work, and some family constellation examinations.

 

I enjoy cooking, and I'm sleeping a lot because I'm at peace when I sleep, and I believe that is the time when my tired brain heals and plays.  (I don't recall many dreams but my sense is that they're not threatening or critical…and some of them may be goofy or fun.)

 

I'm reducing my therapy appointments to two a week, but focusing now on the single issue of depression.  I'm hoping if I can clear that up that some of the other symptoms (inability to get off the couch, inability to follow through, inability to make any plans, inability to read and disinterest in art/movies/culture, acceptance that I'm dying, fear of connection because I always disappoint others) might diminish a little. 

 

It would be nice to watch a movie again.  I loved movies and talking about good ones. I watched "Hit Man" a month or two ago…not spectacular but a clever take on the roles we play to make ourselves attractive to others.

 

It would be nice to get invited to a friend's house for dinner, or even a party.  I haven't had that experience in well over two years.

 

I had a roommate for the last eight months, and I'm very thankful for Diana.  I'm so glad for the experience of knowing her a little bit too.  This is not her fault—it's mine—but I realize I began to drink more than I had been while she was here, particularly tequila.  I was back up to 7 nights a week, generally at the 2 drink level, and sometimes more.

 

I'm sure that's contributed to the deepening of my depression recently, and, now that I've stopped drinking again, after a very deep dark decline, each day has a bit more sunshine now. 

 

Tequila, ketamine, MDMA, cannabis, and microdosing psilocybin and LSD during a six month period was obviously a mix that couldn't be analyzed for long term results. 

 

My plan for the next months, at least, is to begin with anti-depressants and nothing else.  If I start feeling happier and better, perhaps some cannabis edibles—but only when I'm certain.

 

My business is running out of cash and I'm trying to sell my home in New York City to satisfy my divorce settlement.  So I do need to stand up now and fulfill my obligations like a responsible man and citizen.

 

It should be interesting.  I don't see any opportunities for joy coming up soon.  No travel.  No time with others. 

 

I was an athlete before but I look at my bike or my trail running shoes and it's similar to looking at the cooking oil section at a grocery store.   Lots of choices but nothing calls out, and I have enough at home anyway. 

 

That's OK.  I have my beautiful cat Ceci to look out for and I've promised I won't let her down and I won't die.  I have the work of therapy, and I need to save my company. (Come to think of it, why do I need to save my company?  I don't have heirs and I could live small by myself, somewhere.)

 

But I won't let Ceci down, and I still care about myself to say this:  I don't want to let you down, either, David.  You were a good good person.  You made a lot of people safe and happy.  Now it's your turn, even if you're alone and oh so sad. 

 

Please don't abandon me too…OK?  Keep trying as long as you can for me. I love you, David Foster