The woman in the beige dress coat adjusted her purse over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. She stopped before she grabbed the handle and turned to all of us and said, “Merry Christmas. My wish for you is to get better. You will.”
It took the entire room aback. No one ever really talks in the waiting room. I cleared my throat, “You too,” I said.
As the door closed heavily behind her, my focus diverted back to the used tissue that I twirled in my hand. The middle was soaked with tears caught just before the rest of the waiting room noticed. One gentle tug and the entire thing would rip. I didn’t have anymore tissues with me and there were none set out in boxes on top of his speakers that streamed jazz music.
I bit my lip and prayed that I could keep my shit together before I got into his office.
Things were finally getting better.
I was coming out of my shell, enjoying the world around me.
We put up our tree listening to Twisted Sister singing Deck The Halls.
We laughed so hard in the grocery store as an elderly woman walked right through a toot bomb from a very gassy 4 year old.
I was finally waking up.
It felt as though I was walking forward with my head turned up to the clouds, embracing freedom of the shackles that held me down for so long.
And I didn’t even see it coming.
The bump in the middle of the road.
I wanted to post this before Christmas, but decided not to. When I saw Dr. B we decided to increase the lithium. I truly believed that it was going to put me back on track so there was really no need to wave the white flag on the blog.
I started to get physically ill in a matter of days when I started the new dose. I honestly thought that I had a wicked stomach virus that lasted for 4 weeks.
Needless to say, we decreased the dose after the New Year.
While I’m finding that I’m much better physically on this low dose, I mentally feel like I’m on a tight rope, hanging on by one toe. The depression and anxiety has been slowly getting worse yet still sort of manageable. Meaning I can trudge through my day without thinking about death and worrying if the city worker who is chopping down trees is going to come and rape me.
Dr. B says I appear better but anyone can see that when I wash my hair and throw on make-up. It doesn’t mean that what’s lurking inside doesn’t exist.
I’m having issues controlling my anger. It was evident when I kicked the bathroom door open on Saturday because Shawn asked me to put away some towels.
I totally Chuck Norris-ed that shit.
I somehow feel like everyone around me views me as a difficult patient. I’m not. I comply with my medical care, I take my medications. I also do things like engaging in activities I love. I take time outs when moments feel out of control. I walk. I soak in the sun when it’s out. I reach out to friends and family when I need to and so on and so on.
I’m not sitting on my ass waiting for things to happen. I’m trying to make them happen.
I know that there is no magic pill in the entire universe that will make me happy. Nobody walks around happy all the time. No one. We all have good days and bad ones.
What I’m looking for in all of this is balance.
Less fighting more living.
This bipolar business involves a lot of work from both the medication and the patient and I’m doing all that I can.
It’s not my fault that my body reacts to medications in a negative way. I’ve always been like that. I try to trudge through the side effects giving them a chance. Most of the time the side effects go away. Lithium scares the shit out of me. I want it to work. But if I can’t get any higher than this dose I’m currently on without feeling like death, I’m wondering if this medications is worth it at all.
I’m not sure where this post is even going.
The word count is 769.
Food for thought.
I hate posts longer than 500.
Anyways, I’m back. My drugs laced my brain with stupid juice. I apologize in advance.
For those of you who stuck around, I am rewarding you with this awesome photo.
I made my son walk to school when the temperatures could freeze even the devil’s nipples. I’m glad Chunky will be able to tell his kids “When I was your age, my Mom made me walk to school in -17 degree weather”…
I like creating memories.