I told my psychiatrist to lock me in his office for a few hours – throw away the key even. He said, “Cool! Let’s figure this thing out,” and spun a glass cube that was tilted at an odd angle and laid precariously too close to the edge of the desk for my liking.
I’m a mom of a child who knocks things off of shelves for sport like a damn cat. What can I say.
It was a mindless little invention if that’s what you want to call it – this glass cube spinner – but I honestly could have sat there with my mouth wide open and watched it for hours. I probably need one now. No I don’t. In that short span of time I stared at it while my psychiatrist got settled into his chair and into my computer chart, I thought of things like: Who cleans all the knick knacks in his office? I mean, every time you touch the cube, you must have to clean the fingerprints off it and surely it collects dust worse than my granite counter tops at home.
Don’t get me started on the dog fur that is basically just our hardwood floor decor now.
Psychiatrist’s office’s should have dogs.
And bubble wrap.
And rooms that we can just take naps in…
…with the dogs.
And a fridge maybe with food like nachos, cheese, cold pizza, cookies and wine.
And no cellphones, no visitors.
I mean this kind of sounds like a hospital stay but it’s not. Just a time out. A recharge if you will.
If there was a suggestion box, I’d throw these in there.
I’d write it with my right hand though and sign it Philip just to throw him off.
He cleared his throat.
I told my psych that my brain is clogged with thoughts. The increase in medication slowed them down but they’re all stuck in there. I’m so forgetful and discombobulated – I lost my keys IN THE DOORKNOB and wallet ON THE COUNTER. I have to read the same page or recipe at least twice before I get it. I sat with a sick loved one at their specialist appointment and I was trying to retrieve information and it was one of the most painful and awkward conversations I’ve had in a long time.
My brain feels like an overcrowded fish tank at a pet store.
It’s all crammed with those tiny goldfish or whatever those cheap fish are. Those are my thoughts. When I’m trying to remember something in particular, it’s hard to weed through all the “same” looking thoughts sometimes.
The kid goes to their parent “I want that orange fish!”
“No the orange one!”
“No! The ORANGE ONE!”
Does that kind of make sense? It’s like having the worst case of writers block ever. Only worse. 100x’s worse.
Worse than that.
I know I’ll get there eventually. It takes time for the medication to level out. I trust my psychiatrist and this process. This medication helped me out last year tremendously. I just have to keep trudging through this part.
In the meantime, we have decided to start to wean off of one medication that I’ve been on since the beginning of my diagnosis of bipolar disorder I believe. We started to try last year but we were unable to complete it because I think I started to feel really itchy in my skin (akathisia). I actually feel really good about this decision. Scared but good.
We survived our week without Shawn in Japan.
While Shawn was away, I realized that I do a lot more at home than what my mind was telling me I do.
Depression is a horrible trickster you know?
I was worried that I wasn’t going to handle things in my husband’s absence. An entire 6 days and I carried on with doctors, specialists, calls from school about unexpected loose teeth, then orthodontists, running over a raccoon, out of country hockey tournament, my dog eating and barfing up socks – my goodness, I did it! I friggen did it.
I contribute a whole lot around here.
I don’t know why I didn’t see that before.
I always preach self care and putting yourself first but the last few months I put my chronic pain appointments on the back burner. I finally scheduled myself in and they took me right away. My first infusion is tonight.
I’m incredibly lucky to have such wonderful and compassionate medical professionals taking care of me – all of them. I’d be drowning without them.
I don’t know where I’m going with this post. It kind of got scattered like the fishy-thoughts crammed in the aquarium like brain of mine. I’ve got dog hair to sweep. Laundry. These medical forms to fill by tomorrow. Emails to tackle. Or there’s this box of cookies with my name on it….
I don’t give myself credit much. I tend to put myself down more than I build myself up because my back is broke and my brain is broke and I can’t do things like I used to like work outside of the home….but….
Holy sh*t…You’re doing pretty good Kimberly.
*Pats self on back*