I'm still doing pretty good after my last med change a week and a half ago. I look back at what I was thinking and believing for so long and wonder HOW I ever believed all that stuff. It seems so ludicrous now. I can see how obviously irrational it all was. But during the worst of it, nobody could convince me my perspective was off. That's how it goes. You can't reason with an unreasonable person. That's why I couldn't "fix myself" with CBT when I was down in the darkest depths of the depression. Or the mixed episodes, for that matter.
I got outside and walked a mile and a half again yesterday. It felt good to accomplish a goal. I met with my case manager again. I bought groceries (finally got my food stamps card!). Then I was tired, so I went home and curled up with a book.
I still get overstimulated pretty quickly. And I'm having a tremendous amount of trouble regulating my sleep. There was a screw-up in getting my sleeping med called in to the pharmacy, so I was without it for a few days. Boy, did that NOT help. Erratic sleep is both a symptom and a trigger for me. So I have to be extra vigilant to go to bed and wake up at the same time every single day. Which I hate. But I have to. Especially when I'm only a few days into what I hope is "stability." I did manage to get the medicine filled today. I have 20 cents left to my name. I may or may not have enough gas to get to therapy Thursday. I may use the Okaloosa County Transit. Never used it before, but it's cheap. My case manager is trying to get a voucher for me to use it for transpo to and from Bridgeway for treatment.
Oh, about this "Obama Phone." This seems to be the same model phone I borrowed from Sr. Arlene in Trinidad. Hers was from the '90s. No touch screen. No keyboard. It's strange how spoiled we get. Everybody I've told about this is horrified. But at least I have a phone. Texting is free. Though it's such a pain the butt to type on this thing, I will be sending very few. I get 500 minutes a month of talk time. I'm trying to save all that for calling the docs, case manager, pharmacy, etc. They always put me on hold, so I'm sure that will eat up a lot of minutes. It's hard to complain about something that's free, but apparently I'm managing it just fine. Beggars can't be choosers, blah, blah. I mean, I AM grateful for it. I'm just ready to get back to work and have expendable cash for a $45/month Straight Talk card. My S3 is paid for. Seems a shame I can't use it. Though I can use the apps and internet if I'm near wifi, but we don't have that at home. Our across-the-street neighbor gave us the password to his wifi. So if I sit on the front porch, I can pick up the signal. Last night I sat out there and listened to the rain while I checked me email and such. It was sort of relaxing. At least I had a covered area and a nice chair to sit in.
I don't like being petty and complaining about the help I am getting. It just stings that I can't do for myself. I want to work. I want to save the world. I want to be able to talk on the phone for hours at a time. The McCormick is strong in me, so I struggle with this limited minutes thing. Although the rest of the world may be breathing a sigh of relief. Especially BFF. Ha. I can't call her five times a day anymore to just babble. So maybe the silver lining is that I'll be more self-reliant emotionally, even if I'm not doing so great with that in the financial area.
Back to the Bipolar Recovery. I'm am scared. Or more like nervous. I keep expecting my brain to turn on me again. It seems too good to be true that I'm over the worst and truly headed toward high-functioning again. I pray to god every night that I don't plummet back down into despair. I am very worried about the sleep issue. But like I said, I did get the medicine I needed today. So I hope I get a good rest tonight, when it's, you know, dark outside.
I'm glad that ECT doesn't seem like an option anymore. I was about to DEMAND it a couple weeks ago. It's no fun (to say the least), but I've had it once before and believe it saved my life then. God, I hope I'm going to continue to get better so I don't have to resort to that.
I keep expecting more of myself than I manage right now. I still feel tired physically (topsy-turvy sleep will do that). And walking wears me out (I haven't exercised regularly since before grad school, so 2011, to be honest). I want to be Wonder Woman. Or at least Healthy Hope. I want to take over the world. But I kinda need a nap. And if any one of ya tells me to be patient, you can expect a virtual punch in the throat. I KNOW I have to be patient. I just want to have my life back.
So. I will focus on the victories instead of wishing I was at the finish line of recovery right this second. I am learning so much about how broken our social services are, and I am learning how to navigate the red tape. That's something all the text books in college couldn't prepare me for. Nor could being a clinician give me the full experience. So I am trying to look at this whole ordeal as an intensive internship in being a destitute mentally ill client. I will certainly have more empathy and determination to help others. I think it will make me better at my job. I know when I go to therapy, if the therapist has been through similar crap, I respect what she says a lot more. I don't just blow it off without considering it fully. So I'm am hanging onto the belief that this is all for a reason. That I can transmute this experience into knowledge and determination. Life is what we make it, I guess. And, while I do like to bitch about everything, ultimately I'm a closet optimist. I will use this. I will use it to be a better person, and I hope to better help people who cross my path. OK, now I'm about to barf from the touchy-feely. But you get my meaning, I hope. Life sucked really bad; it's starting to suck less; I will use the suckiness for good.
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