Loose Skin and a Bad Temper

Posted on January 24, 2006 in Psychotropics Weather

Between midnight and five a.m., the coastal plain became full of mountain air and the gales stopped. Goodbye for now to the earplugs, the eye drops, the antihistamine, the asthma inhaler, and the nasal spray. Only the topmost leaves of the trees fluttered. I could go out and right the plants that the foehn had blown over.

My windstorm survival kit is not complete if it doesn’t include an anti-anxiety medication. Xanax through the worst part of the storm on Monday morning. I did not fear it. It got beneath my skin. The benzodiaphene acted the part of glue. My skin felt like it was loose and peeling off. My muscles felt dry and exposed. There was no need to rush to a trauma center. I had what I needed to fix the problem even if it wasn’t Scientologistically Correct. I was pissed off.

Rushing air in nature makes me irritable. That’s one reason why I hate Santa Ana winds. The main reason. What I get isn’t anxiety. Anxiety tries to crack open my ribcage. It works deep. This other feeling dances about just below the roots of my hair. Anxiety wants me to hide in bed, to curl up like a cheese puff, to stay far from people. Irritability won’t stay behind closed doors. I thrust myself into the near occasion of conflict. Anxiety craves human contact. Irritability shouts “Touch me and die, m*therf*cker!”

Xanax works on both. In both cases, it relaxes the muscles. The anxious feelings disintegrate for a time, having been made drunk by my white oval pills. What soothes the irritability (after the deep breathing, the hot showers, and the meditation have taken me an increment towards calm) is a secondary reaction. The muscles in my arms stretch and go limp, easing their grip on the bones. My skin stops its floating and join the meat sinews. The wrap is tight but not constricting. I don’t look around for bits of dermis scattered on the floor.

The winds bring this on. Mania, irritability, and the howling of the canyon make me want to rush out and punch the tangible, invisible force.