My shrink’s office just called to reschedule my appoint AGAIN. That’s twice now. I am having paranoid thoughts that maybe the doctor has just tired of dealing with me.
The receptionist asked if I was doing okay. I told her the klonopin isn’t working but I suppose I can make it another week.
Sure, I am yelling about using intestine as jumpropes but hey, it’s all good.
Is there something more sinister going on? Maybe my insurance is about to be canceled because I don’t know…I smoke? I can’t find meds that work? My soon to be ex says I’m not really disabled, just a bitch?
THIS is why I like xanax. It wards off these insane crippling panic thoughts.
Seriously, why would they cancel two appointments then tell me the day they can get me in they only have one opening?
It seems wrong.
Now my equilibrium is askew. And I still have a full day ahead of me to make nice and pretend to be functional when all my panic receptors are on red alert and all my brain can do is try to figure out why suddenly I have been pushed to a back burner with the doctor. Are there people in town crazier than me who are more worthy? Am I not crazy enough? Should I just strip naked, put on a tin foil hat and walk down the main drag so someone will GET that I am not faring so well here just because I am out of bed and functioning at a deficit?
Sure, I know my paranoia is probably unwarranted.
If logic trumped mental illness, I wouldn’t pump all these stupid drugs into my system trying to find my way out of the fucking abyss.