It should have been a day like any other, but it wasn't. I didn't start the day out right, in that I did not feel good when I got up. I did not feel my normal cheerful self and after I walked the dog and ate my breakfast, I went to bed and slept a few more hours, thereby missing my appointment with my psychiatrist, which was not good, of course. I had called in sick. In reality I had a case of agoraphobia, which did not bide well for tomorrow when I had an appointment with my contact person at Social Services and already that was hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.
After I got up from my extra sleep, I did not feel better, but very nervous and stressed and I decided to call my psychiatrist and fess up my lie and ask him for help with my appointment for the coming day. He thought my agoraphobia might be a result of my decreasing my medication. I told him about the great problem that I had with going to Socials Services and asked him to call my contact person and explain my situation to him and luckily he agreed to do that. He called me back a while later and said that he had taken care of it and that I didn't have to go in tomorrow.
This should have brought me relief to no end, but I could not shake the feeling that there was something very wrong and that the sword of Damocles still hung over my head. I had taken a Temazepam to take care of my nerves, but it only seemed to help partially and I don't want to take another one, because they make me feel groggy. I don't like that drugged feeling unless there is no other solution.
I find myself in a position that I'm highly uncomfortable with what I'm sharing of myself with the world, as if it is going to be used against me. I'm suspicious of what each and everyone of you will do with the information you read here, that's why I'm writing it down with the least amount of emotion. I'm also still afraid to go out the door and it was quite a battle to finally go and take the dog out. I don't know what is out there that scares me so, but there you have it. I'm highly uncomfortable being here by myself and having nobody else here. I feel very vulnerable, as if I'm open to attack from unknown sources that lie in wait for me around the corner somewhere. I feel very vulnerable, that's the main issue.
My psychiatrist said to try and increase my medication with half a tablet, so as not to get the erosion of feelings again. I'm going to try that in a little while. I hope it will do some good, because the way I feel now is no good. I harbor all sorts of suspicious feelings about all sorts of people. I'm second guessing their motivations. That's what's making me feel so scared. I don't feel safe in this world anymore and I don't know when the feeling will disappear. I'm still sane enough to doubt my feelings, but soon I will start believing them, like I already believe some of them, and then I'll be far from home.
I needed to go to the tobacco shop, but was afraid to go, so now I have to use the can of tobacco crumbs that I have saved up. I don't care, as long as I can make cigarettes. Tomorrow morning my sister and I will go grocery shopping and then I will buy tobacco.
I just took my medication including half a tablet of antipsychotics and we will soon see what happens. Like I said, they dissolve on your tongue and enter your system quickly, so I should notice something soon.
I did manage to sweep the living room floor and to mop it. I did the hard parts on my knees, where the dirt was very stubborn. That was in the places where furniture had stood. I have to do the kitchen floor tomorrow and do the bathroom floor as well. I don't enjoy these jobs as they give me a backache, but once they are done there is a bit of satisfaction, especially when I got a bad spot out. I don't care much about the apartment, but I'm going through the motions of getting it clean before Christmas. It's all such a bother and I hardly care, but I feel I must make it look good for company. My older sister and my niece and her husband and daughter are supposed to come down here for the holidays, so I better have the place look good. Joost is coming after Christmas.
I feel I can't write with the least amount of excitement. I may as well be a brain dead sack of potatoes sitting here behind the keyboard. Sometimes I just want to give up and not do it any longer. You know, participate in life. It seems like too much work and I don't get anywhere. I'm tired of the ups and downs and the bad luck. I can try and be Pollyanna and see the bright side, but I can't keep that up forever. Right now I just feel worn out. I couldn't even change a light bulb today. I couldn't get the darn thing screwed in.
The antipsychotic is working now. I may as well take the other half too. I don't see much sense in just taking half a tablet. It seems like it wouldn't be enough. Yes, I'm a stubborn patient. I don't believe in suffering. I guess I believe in throwing caution to the wind.
Well, that's enough of this pathetically written post. It's one big lament, isn't it? Allow me to have one of those too. I don't know what else to do with myself. I can't tell it to the animals. I really need a good therapy session or a slap up the head.
Ciao,
Nora
