Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my life paradise, but it sure beats anything else I can think of.
I’ve got way too much on my plate though. The first week of April is going to be a doozy and I’m already over-amped and anxious. My oldest son is getting married on the 2nd, and while I question the wisdom of an outdoor wedding in early April, I’ll just have to bring an umbrella and hope for the best. Then we have three of Will’s siblings coming in from all over the country to see him, one on the 5th and the others on the 8th, which will entail multiple trips to and from the airport and living arrangements which have yet to be worked out. Then, in between all of that, I’m supposed to squeeze in a final med check with Dr. Awesomesauce and another session with my psych NP.
These are all good things. It’s just that it’s a bit much to deal with all at once and I’m trying not to freak the f##k out. I also ran out of Klonopin on Sunday night and am having to use expired Ativan, which doesn’t work as well as the vitamin K but will keep me from going through withdrawals until I can get that script filled. I usually have to fight either the pharmacy or my insurance for that particular drug, and I think that’s what happened this time too. Dealing with controlled substances is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have to, but it can’t be helped—I need that medication!
Still, I can’t put the blame for this squirmy, unsettled feeling on two days sans Klonopin because I’ve felt this way for the past week or so. I’m irritable and distractible (it took me over four hours to write this post). I have a restless energy that can’t seem to be channeled into meaningful activity—the mind says Go, and the body says oh HELL no—so I sit here in front of the computer tapping my feet and bouncing my legs endlessly. I also can’t get to sleep before one or two in the morning. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve felt bipolar-ish, but I’m getting there.
There’s never a good time for this sort of thing, but this is a particularly bad time to say the least. These visits are probably going to be the last for everyone concerned; no one needs me going totally ape shit. So I’m going to utilize the breathing techniques I learned in the hospital and picture the beautiful blue-green waters of the Caribbean in my mind whenever I feel myself getting overstimulated. I don’t want to tweak my meds, and I’m not in crisis so I’m not going to pester my providers. If I were to end up losing my shit after all, I can always call my therapist and get an early appointment. But I won’t need to, because I’m going to be just fine and everyone will be happy to be together and it won’t rain on my son’s wedding day.
That’s what I keep telling myself. Now I just need to believe it. Haha!