…sounds like low level mob guy. Jimmy Legs.
Fuck this… fuck and fuck it again. Shortly after ten o’clock this morning, the fucking Jimmy Legs kicked in and that was it.
Akathisia is agitation in the extreme. The Jimmy Legs are like migraines… you either know, or you don’t. Trust me… a good third of the people who tell you about the migraine they had the night before are unknowlingly full of untruths… and trust me… I know migraines.
Back to the one and only fish I have to fry today and probably through tomorrow. And when I come back in from smoking one, if not two at a time,cigarettes… about which I am not kidding.. I’ll get right to it.
There… not at all better. The only thing that comes remotely close to comforting is smoking… cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. Right now, if it didn’t involve any travel or physical effort, the best place for me to be would be a giant warehouse… hangar size… with the lights next to dark, surrounded by mountains of fresh tobacco leaves. If I could manage the dexterity to do so, I would definitely strip naked and fall face first into one of those mounds. And endless floor space for pacing.
Even with all of that, I would only feel comfortable in that when Jimmy invades my body, smoking is all I can do. I can’t bear the thought of moving, I can’t stop doing it. It is exactly like restless leg syndrome, only it spills all over. Imagine restless leg syndrome starting at top of your scalp, and washing all the way down to your toes, not missing a single spot of physical real estate.
Today, as is always the case, my knees started clenching and banging together hard… that’s when I know it’s over, I can’t win, and I’m in for for hell. Just like migraine headaches, there’s nothing anyone… victim or witness… can do about it. Nothing at all so go the fuck away. My jaw has already been troubling me for months… I have TMJ, and I grind and clench my jaw relentlesslly. But today my face resembles a stroke victim… twisting and clenching. It’s the Jimmy Legs.
I had no knowledge of Akathisia before I began taking a certain medication for my monkey business a few years ago. Immediately, I began a march back and forth across my carpet that has long outdistanced the Silk Road. Very few things come to mind if I bother to think of anything I could compare this to. Kicking alcohol or opiates…. but I’m not shitting myself and seeing elves in the curtains. But, my muscles are done… done, done, done. There isn’t a single position I can curl up into… fetal on up. Along with the silent shit, this brings out my yelps and moans. It always takes a few minutes or an hour, but sooner or later I always end up making noises… like a mother birthing.
This is important. Do not talk to me or… worse… touch me or get in my airspace for any reason… including fire. I don’t want to hear about it. And, Uma Thurnan just took a monster needle in the sternum in ‘Pulp Fiction’… I love that.
Back to this bullshit… There’s nothing that can be done… save possibly.for a good whack of opiates. Again… like a migraine… Akathisia is always here on it’s own terms, and will come and go without any rhyme or reason, except for possibly the tail end, when the body is too overworked to go on…. but the body will take on a new strength. I am going to beat my mattress like it owes me money tonight until I kick myself to sleep.
Miserable. Fucking miserable.
I’ve only recently become aware of the fact the Jimmy Legs are seriously crippling at the high end, to which I am close. I Get them all of the time, even though I took that medicine for less than a month. Maybe they’re connected, mabye they’re not. But the fancy people with .gov’s and .org’s all make a strong point of letting it be known that these legs, if you will, are strongly linked to certain meds. Just like the counting business with OCD, I didn’t know what it was, I just knew I did it. Fool me once…
It does not matter one whit what I’m doing and where I am. Once it hits, I am absorbed completely. This morning, I was only barely able to limp to our car in the parking lot at the store. I could not handle the inside of the store, I could not handle the walk back to the car, I did not enjoy the car. Again… don’t bother, because nothing is going to help.
My weirdo brain stuff comes and goes whenever it decides that it’s a good time for its own selfish self. Up and down and hard cycling fast when that’s what’s going to happen. The Jimmy Legs, however, are one of a handful of situations in which I will not be operating with any nod towards anything but falling to pieces for the next day or three.
I’ve read up and spoken to some doctors about this lately. What piqued my interest was an article I read that mentioned the Jimmy’s drives enough people to suicide that it merits a mention in a pie chart kind of way. It causes depression, anxiety, terrible physical discomfort… agitation par excellence. The suicide angle caught my eye because that word stands out like no other… not that it drives me down that road. It makes me angry and exhausted in a way that makes me want to cry like a baby because for all of that, it’s a battle to get to sleep. So… I get all twisted up, and I cannot function. Not for anything. How I can type right now is beyond me… but otherwise, I would qualify easily for euthanasia in any country or place inclined to get their super-race on.
No matter… I will always opt for angry over sad, but just by a hair. This nonsense makes me angry, which is draining left right and under.
It would make sense that I could use all of this marching gas to get some things done… but that would not be further from the truth. I’m supposed to help some family move tomorrow… I’ve been looking forward to it for a month now. But, I don’t think it’s going to happen. First, I can only use my body to dance and twitch with an air of palsy. On top of that, I can’t stand to be around people… it’s far too agitating, nor do I want anybody to see me like this. I really don’t, and I can’t pull a rabbit out of my hat like I can with certain other malfunction… pull out a rabbit and smile for the fans.I am such a physical wreck, and as I said at the beginning, this wracks my body like really bad drug withdrawl, and I just can’t put a lid on the St Vitus show.
I can’t see getting suicidal over it, but it occurred to me earlier that if ever there was a time to pull out the kit and start cutting, this would be it. The little spot in my lizard brain dedicated to slicing myself has a longing to make the intolerable float away. Chain smoking or bloodletting? The two are an odd weigh, bur I am chain smoking tonight, and nothing is going to crap on that party.
I’m going to do that until I can’t stand… which istwelve hours ago… and I fall into bed. I do have the good fortune of candles, sweats, and a bunker to hunker down in.
Also linked to Akathisia is a pretty high rate of substance abuse. I can see that… I would gladly take some strong pharmaceuticals right now if they promised to help me settle down. The idea flew through my head for a millisecond that drinking would be very attractive under the present circumstances…but it wouldn’t. I don’t want to go there anyway. I couple of assertive opiates from the pharmacy and an ice cold Coke would be awesome right now. Alas…
Hey… my daughter has been keeping me far from cutting, but it just goes to illustrate that this is a bully. All the whiskey and abusive masturbation in the world can’t put a stop to this. That would be nice… my neck is rolling and wobbling like a bobblehead’s.
Oh, and as per usual, I’m not going to spend one minute of checking for errors and nonsense in order to edit all of this… I am more deeply out of give a fuck’s than I can say. Sorry about that… it’s not like I’m incapable.
Take care… have a good moment.