Recent mornings have woken with hostility. My brain churning angry violent words and scenarios to the persons that have wronged me. Rolling over and over the injustice like meat on a spit above a flame, slowing fantasizing of all the things I would say if I could in some unrealistic scenario.

The vengeance fantasies have always kept me from sleep. It’s the only true insomnia I know. In my youth I recall fantasizing about romantic interludes and scenarios with men I longed for. The fairy tale thoughts might keep me up for a little while but eventually would soothe me to sleep.

I’m not sure when that stopped. Now it’s avoiding dreaming all together if possible. My brain auto pilot fixation on the people who wronged me. Like an obsessed villain. My subconscious can’t be trusted.

Perceived injustice, abnormal hostility.

New symptoms to a new diagnosis. I want to listen to my audiobook but it isn’t enough to drown out my thoughts. I resort to music.

Music makes you feel. Feeling is the only way to drown out thinking. So I put on the music that I know will steer my brain away from the isle of vengeance and lift my mood so that my day might be more bearable.

And then a perfect afternoon drinking micheladas and being serenaded by two men singing spanish ballads to me outside a restaurant. The way they showed their skills harmonizing, belting loudly with each other lest the pretty guerita not be impressed.

The way the spanish language can capture feelings and heartache and wrap it up on a pretty patio of a restaurant in San Francisco.

You have to take yourself to where you will be well.

You have to listen to what makes you well.

It’s so many things… just to be well.