Ya know how chocolate chips are semi-sweet?
Today was semi-suck.
My mood was alllll over the place because in my infinite premature alzheimer’s state I forgot to take my meds before I went out the door. No, I am not proud of this, especially considering how much crap I give others for their crap memories. It is what it is, though, so I went through about ten mood swings before lunch, shifting from blah to manic to too manic to crash landing to anger to acceptance to…You get the idea. It didn’t dawn on me while until halfway through the morning, I just thought I was having problems “regulating my emotions”.
Without the mood stabilizer I am a merry go round on a roller coaster ride from freaking hell.
And I can never seem to apologize enough for this to those in my proximity who have to deal with it.
Because wow, when the too manic goes into plain pissed off…it ain’t pretty.
I managed. Though I am sure I raised some questions because of the rapid shifts in behavior/train of thought/et al. (I was trying to regulate my emotions during a manic episode, so the fact no one got dead is pretty damn impressive.)
I am finally home and the day is done.
I didn’t think it ever would be. Before I could even pick Spook up, R was calling to tell me there was a girl in the shop who did something to her netbook and could I come look at it…So I took Spook to the shop (after a ten minute treaty-treat of hearing about the problems of many befalling my mother and sister’s zoo) and had the girl’s problem figured out in like, three minutes. Then I had to get cat food and told Spook she couldn’t have a ten dollar Dora toy so she promptly threw an unholy screaming mimi in the parking lot. I had to pick her up, press her against me, and carry the screaming thrashing kicking octopus to the car.
She’s usually not that bad.
Then we get home and somehow,I am held responsible for feeding mom and them and getting my nephew to his school dance so I just parted with my weekend money and told them to hit me back Monday when mom gets paid. Spook and I have food and don’t really need to go anywhere. I would have given a kidney to shut them up, I have empathy and sympathy but after 15 years of this every month with my sis and her husband never going to work for a fucking hour to try and help themselves…Cripes, enough already.
Needless to say,I was not home before 5pm…but surprisingly, my world did not implode, as I have thought for the last year that it would.
I can’t begin to explain that particular neuroses, wish I could.
But every day around 4 pm, I go into panic mode because I am terrified if I don’t get home like NOW, the world will implode…Routine is essential, it is crucial…
Yet yesterday the routine was out the fucking window and it sent me reeling and I was ready to just dissolve into a puddle of tears…the world did not end.
Of course, proof positive means fuck all to my mental issues.
Monday it will be the same thing all over.
And I kick myself for not being strong enough to “regulate my emotions”, as the counselor says, but nothing has changed.
Except I survived another day, when in the past, I would have fallen to pieces.
Why must personal progress be so goddamned slow?