Chernobyl in the city

I had a huge meltdown last night.
And it was ugly...

It began the way it always does - I freak out over something, and every other grain of frustration erodes away that one particular spot until it's a blistering and burning sore. First it was the camera snafus, then about the whole bankruptcy thing, then the "What am I doing with my life?" drama.

Bubble bubble toil and trouble

It didn't help that the night before I was on a manic high - I knew it had to come crashing down at some point.

Better yesterday that during the shoot!

But it was ugly.
I didn't think that my mind could go down those back roads of insanity twice in one lifetime, but there I was, white knuckled holding on to whatever shreds of reason I had left, and watched the rest fly by in a blinding explosion.

During these times, whatever lies within my circumference will become airborne. Heavy or light, it doesn't matter. I saw three camera bodies and a cluster of lenses and knew it was time to get out of the house.

My whole body shook - heaving and gasping for air. Cockroaches in my head, snakes inside my veins, my heart about to explode. It was hell.

I'm typing this but it seems so odd and incoherent, surreal.

So many things I want to write about - that whole experience of sitting in the car and screaming at the top of my lungs out of sheer terror, the inability to even stop any of this. I was not my body and it was not me. Perhaps it's the exhaustion setting in. It's still so fresh - that manic meltdown.

I'm better now.

Better in the sense that I'm calm. But better in the real sense - not really.

This mania can strike back at any moment - which is what scares the shit out of me. I am a walking time bomb. A Chernobyl in the city waiting to happen.