Well, I made the call. I absolutely HATE going over my symptoms with the office staff, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Now I’m just waiting for them to call back, not that I’m sweating it because I just called about two hours ago.
I didn’t want to call. I gave myself every excuse in the book NOT to, and the excuses almost won. It took me two hours just to screw up the cojones to dial the number. But then I remembered that I spent most of last night wide-ass awake and staring at the ceiling, which is NEVER a good sign.
I don’t know why it’s so fucking hard to do this, but it is, and I just have to force myself. The thing I’m grateful for right now is having enough insight to know that I don’t have much.
I wish I could get sleepy enough, early enough, to make my brain stop talking to itself and prevent my physical agitation from keeping my poor husband awake. His patience with me is wearing thin, and I can’t blame him. He doesn’t need my bipolar bullshit—-he’s sick in his own way, although you’d never know it to watch him bopping around with most of his old energy. So I get to feel guilty along with being over-amped. Sheesh!
You know, this is one of the reasons why I’m glad I took up my friend’s challenge to enter the blogging contest that launched bpnurse.com. It’s like a chronicle of the lessons learned from living every day, not only as someone with a mental illness but who is growing older and (hopefully) wiser. I can look back through the archives and see in retrospect what may have triggered a mood episode……like this one, which didn’t really have a trigger but I can already see when it started. I’m looking forward to the time when I can look back at this one and learn from it.