Two episodes into season nine [Med School] of Scrubs, I finally managed to tear myself out of my reverie. At first I told myself that staying home from work sleeping, had nothing to do with Frank disappearing off of IM, because I really felt nothing (other than a growing anxiety that I'd loose my job, fixed by hurriedly going back to sleep.) I certainly didn't think about him, but after inexplicably crying in big, hulking sobs when someone who resembled him walked by on my screen I had to admit that I am not as in touch with my feelings as I'd like to think, and that I have no idea how to handle them. Neither indulging heavily nor complete denial seem to work.
I'd also prefer to think that my inability to handle negative emotions is innately about me and not about the object of those emotions. That is, if I were less crazy I wouldn't react like this. I'd hate to think someone had the power to put me out of commission.
Escalating my lies to my boss - by Friday I did not only have a fever that wouldn't go away but I'd been to the doctor and received antibiotics - I managed to alternately sleep and watch Scrubs from Tuesday evening until noon Saturday.
No, actually, the Provigil did nothing for this. It's possible to sleep even when taking it.
But I am moving forward, I think, that desperate need to reconcile at any cost is not there anymore. Let's hope it stays that way. The worst part of living is that every moment of clarity inevitable dissipates, and leaves not only befuddlement but incredible disappointment.