Yesterday I had therapy. Honestly, I was so damned tired that I got nothing from it. I’m pretty sure she got no new knowledge from it either, except that I’m beyond fucking tired.
I took my meds yesterday morning, but Joe and MIL would have been smart to wonder if I had. Of course, the fastest way to get your head taken off around here is to be my Mother-In-Law and ASK if I took my meds. I absolutely can’t skip a dose of my psych meds. The trileptal has such a short half-life that you basically have none of it left in your system when it’s time for the next dose. So skipping a dose, just one, throws me into this weird anxiety ridden depression with a fuse the size of a tic tac. But, I had taken them, I was just really edgy and a little belligerent. Weirdly, I was completely fine when I took Joe to the Surgery Center for his procedure. I got some alone time to read my book while he was being taken care of and then he needed me. And him needing me is my jam. Anyone needing me is my jam quite frankly. I have a deep desire to be useful and needed and do well under those conditions. Unless, you need me too much. Unless, it goes on too long or you’re too high maintenance. ANYway…
I managed to get MIL to make dinner (‘I’m busy taking care of your son!’ ) and, as per usual, she fried something. She literally cannot make food without either frying it or throwing a shit ton of pasta into it. I’m carrying around an extra 100 pounds and it’s not cool. Of course, I didn’t have to make it, so whatever. Easy dinner.
Yesterday, I fell asleep around 7, so I went in to lay down and ended up reading for a little bit. But, I was asleep by 8:30 and up at 11:00pm. Stayed up for an hour. Took a double dose of my Klonopin out of sheer desperation for sleep. It bought me 2 more hours, and then that was it. Tomorrow this bullshit ends though. I’ll tell Joe tonight, and he won’t be happy about it but I don’t care. Tomorrow is my pdoc appointment with Dr. M. And I’m going to tell her flat out, that she either needs to give me something to knock me out good and proper, or she’s going to need to admit me to the hospital so they can. I can’t keep going like this, and if I do, I’m going to end up in the hospital anyway from suicidal thoughts or an actual attempt. I no longer care which way she wants to take this, but something needs to give and I can’t keep being the one to do so. I have good insurance, so let’s use that shit and get me some good drugs dammit. Or a couple nights somewhere where they will give them to me. My circadian rhythm is all jacked up. I’m up at night baking and doing laundry and during the day I’m reading and trying not to nap so that MAYBE I’ll sleep that night.
I know this is a rambling post and I try not to do that, but I’m just sooo beat and I don’t have the energy to try to make this flow. I feel certain you’ll forgive me.
It’s a pretty easy day, which is nice. The dough is rising now for the Moravian Cake I’m making for my Dad. It’s a regional thing from Bethlehem, PA where he was born and he hasn’t had one for forever. I could order one, but I have all this extra time IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, so I decided to bake him one. It’s actually not hard, it just takes time because you have to let the dough rise for hours. Dishwasher is running and then I’ll force my ass into the shower. I wouldn’t, but Joe and I have an appointment later so I have to leave the house and be seen by members of the general public. blech. Maybe a load of laundry. A visit to Mom and Dad to see how they are doing. I have to keep vaguely busy or I’ll fall asleep and I don’t want to do that. My nights and days are screwed up enough as they are. And I keep thinking that if I don’t nap, then I’ll sleep better at night. So far that hasn’t worked, but one of these days it might, so I keep doing it. My dog goes to the groomer to get his nails cut and a quick bath. The groomer gives him a bath, cuts his nails and does hygiene stuff for the same amount that the vet wants to cut his nails. And he won’t let me cut his nails, so off to the groomer he goes.
Anyway, I’m done rambling. Carry on with your regular day. As a reward for making it to the end of this ramble, here are some pictures of my boy. His name is Ilio (it means “dog” in Hawaiian). We also call him Dooder.