No really. I do. Like medication side effects for example. Like side effects that I continue to get from my damn Geodon. Makes me want to cut a bitch.
So here's what's up. Last Friday Dr. C had me increase my dose of Geodon from 80mg to 120mg. He told me to take 80mg at night and 40mg in the morning to stave off morning grogginess. I had been having morning grogginess at the 80mg dose, but it was starting to ease up.
Well, guess what happens when I take my morning dose of Geodon?
That's right. I get groggy. Drowsy. Sometimes so much so that I can't even stand. Seriously. Are you fucking kidding me, Geodon? I mean, what the actual fuck??
Today I decided that I'm not taking that extra 40mg in the morning any more. I'm going to take it all at night. See what that does. If I keep getting groggy like this . . . well, that's a deal breaker. I can't work like this.
Speaking of work, I'm not going back until the 27th at the earliest. I'm not ready. I'm emotionally and mentally exhausted. Just . . . exhausted. Then add in the medication side effects and the akathisia (got that too, joy) and it's a no go. I talked with my manager at length about everything and she supports me 100%. I don't need to worry about work.
Huge weight off my shoulders.
I have nothing else poignant to say. Nothing at all.
So bye.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
I'm Stubborn
And probably stupid.
Why? You ask. Work. Work is why.
See, I'm going back to work this Saturday (the 11th). I've been out since December 18th - 3 weeks. Which, in retrospect, doesn't seem very long. Three weeks off to get better from a long lived mixed episode and severe suicidal ideation.
I took 2 weeks off after my hospitalization in November. Worked two weeks, and then was back in the hospital. And now two weeks off then back to work. Not a good track record as of late.
I ask myself, am I ready to go back yet? My answer? I don't know. I've had a few days where I say YES! Yes I can go back! I'm all good y'all!
But I have days like today and yesterday and the day before where I'm anything but good. Where I most certainly do NOT feel like I'm okay to go back. I feel fragile - like I could shatter at any moment. It would just take the slightest knock . . .
I'm still getting overwhelmed easily. I'm still having anger and irritability. Racing thoughts every night (it takes me 2-3 hours to fall asleep thanks to my racing mind). And then I have this . . . horrid feeling. I'm pretty sure it's akathisia. We'll use yesterday as an example because yesterday was bad. I get this feeling like I need to move. I need to move or constantly be doing something. If I'm not I have this looming sense of dread, of impending doom. I get antsy and restless and anxious. I get highly agitated. If I'm not doing something, everything is pointless and I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day or cope with anything.
I felt like that all day yesterday. I drew, I sewed, I was on the computer. I paced in the kitchen constantly while dinner was cooking - I couldn't stop. I could hardly sit still to eat. And after I was finished I left. I left the house to go on a drive and smoke my electronic cigarette because I didn't know what else to do with myself. I was so antsy and agitated it's all I could think to do.
While I was driving something hit me. Hit me hard. I realized how profoundly exhausted I am. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. I came out of a major depressive episode this summer to a month or so of relative stability, only to be thrust head first into a full blown mixed episode for the last 3-4 months.
I have not had a break.
I'm in a constant state of emotional chaos and I'm goddamned FUCKING tired.
I finally realized this last night while driving around, listening to music, and smoking.
When I take all of this into account, how I really feel, how tired I am . . . I'm not ready to go back. But I am. I am going back. This Saturday. Because I'm stupid. I guess I need to see if I can handle it. I need to prove to myself, to J, to M, to my friends and coworkers that I'm okay. I got this guys, I'm fine. I'm going to put everyone ahead of me. I know this is what I'm doing and yet I do it anyway. I have my pride to think of, people. And that good 'ol financial burden - not a good thing to foreclose on your house.
And think of this too: I go back, I can't handle it, I have to take more time off. What does that do for me?? Makes me look even worse. Wow, she must be really sick - she can't handle being at work. What if I lose my shit at work? What then?
But what if I'm perfectly fine to go back? What if all of this is just me being nervous about going back? What if I'm just psyching myself out? What if I'm really fucking fine?
I don't know what the fuck I should really do. I don't want to jeopardize my health. But I also don't want to jeopardize my job.
Or my stubborn pride.
Why? You ask. Work. Work is why.
See, I'm going back to work this Saturday (the 11th). I've been out since December 18th - 3 weeks. Which, in retrospect, doesn't seem very long. Three weeks off to get better from a long lived mixed episode and severe suicidal ideation.
I took 2 weeks off after my hospitalization in November. Worked two weeks, and then was back in the hospital. And now two weeks off then back to work. Not a good track record as of late.
I ask myself, am I ready to go back yet? My answer? I don't know. I've had a few days where I say YES! Yes I can go back! I'm all good y'all!
But I have days like today and yesterday and the day before where I'm anything but good. Where I most certainly do NOT feel like I'm okay to go back. I feel fragile - like I could shatter at any moment. It would just take the slightest knock . . .
I'm still getting overwhelmed easily. I'm still having anger and irritability. Racing thoughts every night (it takes me 2-3 hours to fall asleep thanks to my racing mind). And then I have this . . . horrid feeling. I'm pretty sure it's akathisia. We'll use yesterday as an example because yesterday was bad. I get this feeling like I need to move. I need to move or constantly be doing something. If I'm not I have this looming sense of dread, of impending doom. I get antsy and restless and anxious. I get highly agitated. If I'm not doing something, everything is pointless and I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day or cope with anything.
I felt like that all day yesterday. I drew, I sewed, I was on the computer. I paced in the kitchen constantly while dinner was cooking - I couldn't stop. I could hardly sit still to eat. And after I was finished I left. I left the house to go on a drive and smoke my electronic cigarette because I didn't know what else to do with myself. I was so antsy and agitated it's all I could think to do.
While I was driving something hit me. Hit me hard. I realized how profoundly exhausted I am. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. I came out of a major depressive episode this summer to a month or so of relative stability, only to be thrust head first into a full blown mixed episode for the last 3-4 months.
I have not had a break.
I'm in a constant state of emotional chaos and I'm goddamned FUCKING tired.
I finally realized this last night while driving around, listening to music, and smoking.
When I take all of this into account, how I really feel, how tired I am . . . I'm not ready to go back. But I am. I am going back. This Saturday. Because I'm stupid. I guess I need to see if I can handle it. I need to prove to myself, to J, to M, to my friends and coworkers that I'm okay. I got this guys, I'm fine. I'm going to put everyone ahead of me. I know this is what I'm doing and yet I do it anyway. I have my pride to think of, people. And that good 'ol financial burden - not a good thing to foreclose on your house.
And think of this too: I go back, I can't handle it, I have to take more time off. What does that do for me?? Makes me look even worse. Wow, she must be really sick - she can't handle being at work. What if I lose my shit at work? What then?
But what if I'm perfectly fine to go back? What if all of this is just me being nervous about going back? What if I'm just psyching myself out? What if I'm really fucking fine?
I don't know what the fuck I should really do. I don't want to jeopardize my health. But I also don't want to jeopardize my job.
Or my stubborn pride.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Bruhaha
That title makes no fucking sense.
You're welcome.
I'm still not sleeping great. I don't feel tired at 10 like I normally would. So I've been going to bed around 11. And then it takes me 1-2 hours to fall asleep because my mind starts racing. Thinking about everything. Like rainbows. And shoveling dog shit, which I need to do.
I wasn't too groggy this morning, which was nice. We'll see how that lasts after I take my morning dose of Geodon.
Mood wise I feel pretty well. Though I keep feeling threatened to be overwhelmed by tiny little things. Like making too much smoothie this morning.
Seriously. Too much smoothie. Apparently a big deal.
Clancy you weird little fucker.
You're welcome.
I'm still not sleeping great. I don't feel tired at 10 like I normally would. So I've been going to bed around 11. And then it takes me 1-2 hours to fall asleep because my mind starts racing. Thinking about everything. Like rainbows. And shoveling dog shit, which I need to do.
I wasn't too groggy this morning, which was nice. We'll see how that lasts after I take my morning dose of Geodon.
Mood wise I feel pretty well. Though I keep feeling threatened to be overwhelmed by tiny little things. Like making too much smoothie this morning.
Seriously. Too much smoothie. Apparently a big deal.
Clancy you weird little fucker.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Losing my shit
I wanted to try and describe how it feels when I get overwhelmed. Since it happens so often now.
It starts with a feeling of dread. My heart and stomach drop. I know what's coming, what feeling, what experience. I know what to expect. My heart starts to speed up, slowly at first. It beats hard and fast and I can feel each beat in my temples. In my whole body. I start to sweat a little. Not much, just a little. Everything is in slow motion now. My world will come crashing down.
I feel myself sink to my knees, shoulders slumped as it happens, as my world falls. And fall it does. Glass flies as the windows shatter, their cacophony almost as loud as my self defeating thoughts. Plaster and drywall rain down on me. There is water, water falling from somewhere that I can't see, to add to the mess. Right in front of me, like a movie projector, is everything I love and care for. My friends and family. My husband. My son. They fade as they're pulled away from my outstretched arms, forever out of my reach. I'm rocking now. I place my hands over my ears and scream. Silently, I scream.
Everything starts to go dark. I look around at the encroaching blackness and panic. Not again. Not like this. I tell myself that I'm fine, everything is fine, I'll be fine. The rocking quickens and I still have my hands over my ears. I shut my eyes against the darkness and continue with my mantra. I slow my breathing as the anxiety and dread build. Breathing slowly, thinking of my family, breathing slowly, thinking of my family.
There may be tears, there may not be. There may be anger, there may not be. There may be a rage so great that I feel compelled to add more destruction to my already crumbling world. There may not be. There may be despair and sorrow so great that I completely break down sobbing, knowing that I can't possibly go on. There may not be.
Slowly, eventually, my mantra starts to work. Slowly, eventually, my heart rate slows, the rocking stops, and I can look around at the destruction. The water is still falling, but so lightly that it's a mist. Debris lays strewn everywhere, piles of glass and drywall and hopes and dreams. I stand in a daze, that dread still there.
Because now I have to clean up.
I wring out my shirt as best I can and pick shards of glass and flakes of paint and drywall from my hair. I have to push on now. I have to push on and clean up and pretend and act like this never happened. That I'm okay. Because I have to be okay, don't I?
That, my friends, is how I feel when I get overwhelmed. Every time I get overwhelmed. Which may be several times a day. Now, obviously I don't drop to my knees and scream and rock (well, sometimes I actually close my eyes and rock, but I don't scream, let's be honest). But this is how I feel. The feeling may only last a few minutes - boom! Here and gone. It may last a few hours. Or the initial feeling may last only a few minutes but the cleanup may take all day.
It's not fun. And it's not all that easy. It takes it's toll on me. By the evening I feel emotionally and mentally drained. If it's a good day, where these episodes are few and last only a few minutes, I'm doing pretty okay. I'm mostly okay. On a bad day, like yesterday, I'm down and withdrawn, easy to anger and exhausted.
I have a feeling that this is how I'll be from now on. That if I'm not in acute crisis (ie depression, mania or mixed), this is how I'll be.
And on a good day, that's fine.
But on a bad day . . .
And there are triggers. There are definitely triggers that make this all worse. Some of them I know, some are completely random. And a lot of them are unavoidable. So I'm always on guard, alwyas on alert. Always monitoring.
It's pretty awesome.
It starts with a feeling of dread. My heart and stomach drop. I know what's coming, what feeling, what experience. I know what to expect. My heart starts to speed up, slowly at first. It beats hard and fast and I can feel each beat in my temples. In my whole body. I start to sweat a little. Not much, just a little. Everything is in slow motion now. My world will come crashing down.
I feel myself sink to my knees, shoulders slumped as it happens, as my world falls. And fall it does. Glass flies as the windows shatter, their cacophony almost as loud as my self defeating thoughts. Plaster and drywall rain down on me. There is water, water falling from somewhere that I can't see, to add to the mess. Right in front of me, like a movie projector, is everything I love and care for. My friends and family. My husband. My son. They fade as they're pulled away from my outstretched arms, forever out of my reach. I'm rocking now. I place my hands over my ears and scream. Silently, I scream.
Everything starts to go dark. I look around at the encroaching blackness and panic. Not again. Not like this. I tell myself that I'm fine, everything is fine, I'll be fine. The rocking quickens and I still have my hands over my ears. I shut my eyes against the darkness and continue with my mantra. I slow my breathing as the anxiety and dread build. Breathing slowly, thinking of my family, breathing slowly, thinking of my family.
There may be tears, there may not be. There may be anger, there may not be. There may be a rage so great that I feel compelled to add more destruction to my already crumbling world. There may not be. There may be despair and sorrow so great that I completely break down sobbing, knowing that I can't possibly go on. There may not be.
Slowly, eventually, my mantra starts to work. Slowly, eventually, my heart rate slows, the rocking stops, and I can look around at the destruction. The water is still falling, but so lightly that it's a mist. Debris lays strewn everywhere, piles of glass and drywall and hopes and dreams. I stand in a daze, that dread still there.
Because now I have to clean up.
I wring out my shirt as best I can and pick shards of glass and flakes of paint and drywall from my hair. I have to push on now. I have to push on and clean up and pretend and act like this never happened. That I'm okay. Because I have to be okay, don't I?
That, my friends, is how I feel when I get overwhelmed. Every time I get overwhelmed. Which may be several times a day. Now, obviously I don't drop to my knees and scream and rock (well, sometimes I actually close my eyes and rock, but I don't scream, let's be honest). But this is how I feel. The feeling may only last a few minutes - boom! Here and gone. It may last a few hours. Or the initial feeling may last only a few minutes but the cleanup may take all day.
It's not fun. And it's not all that easy. It takes it's toll on me. By the evening I feel emotionally and mentally drained. If it's a good day, where these episodes are few and last only a few minutes, I'm doing pretty okay. I'm mostly okay. On a bad day, like yesterday, I'm down and withdrawn, easy to anger and exhausted.
I have a feeling that this is how I'll be from now on. That if I'm not in acute crisis (ie depression, mania or mixed), this is how I'll be.
And on a good day, that's fine.
But on a bad day . . .
And there are triggers. There are definitely triggers that make this all worse. Some of them I know, some are completely random. And a lot of them are unavoidable. So I'm always on guard, alwyas on alert. Always monitoring.
It's pretty awesome.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Worried about work . . .
I start back to work next Saturday (the 11th). Now, keep in mind that I'm an RN and I deliver babies. TOTALLY not a high stress job. Nope. No stress here.
And I'm worried. I am seriously worried about going back. Everything overwhelms me. I'm supposed to be going to a friend's house on Saturday to visit and her kiddos are sick so we had to postpone. I lost my shit people. My world came crashing down. Anxiety, despair, anger, confusion, and the feeling like I couldn't possibly go on. Seriously.
My hubby and son wanted to teach me how to play Minecraft on the Xbox (I don't play video games). After 5 minutes of play trying to figure out the dumb controller I about lost my shit. I held it in because of my 6 year old son sitting next to me, but the feelings were all there.
I almost embedded my sewing bobbin in the wall and then broke down sobbing because it wouldn't feed correctly.
My mind still races. I have difficulty concentrating. I'm agitated and irritable and feel restless like I need to MOVE. If I don't stay constantly busy, depressive thoughts try to steal their way back in. They slink around in the background, waiting to pounce, waiting for me to let down my guard.
And I'm supposed to go back to work. In a high stress job that I absolutely LOVE, but that requires me to be at the top of my game. That requires me to focus and concentrate and make snap (sometimes life and death, literally) decisions.
My manager is awesome. She's a godsend. She'll support me in whatever I need. For this I am lucky. For this I am grateful. But I can't afford to be out on leave - and I only have 6 more weeks of FMLA available anyway. After that . . . nothing. And with my track record of hospitalizations . . .
So I'm worried. I'm worried about how I'm supposed to go back to work. Maybe next week I'll be more stable. Maybe next week I won't be overwhelmed by everything.
And maybe I won't be better.
And so I worry.
And I'm worried. I am seriously worried about going back. Everything overwhelms me. I'm supposed to be going to a friend's house on Saturday to visit and her kiddos are sick so we had to postpone. I lost my shit people. My world came crashing down. Anxiety, despair, anger, confusion, and the feeling like I couldn't possibly go on. Seriously.
My hubby and son wanted to teach me how to play Minecraft on the Xbox (I don't play video games). After 5 minutes of play trying to figure out the dumb controller I about lost my shit. I held it in because of my 6 year old son sitting next to me, but the feelings were all there.
I almost embedded my sewing bobbin in the wall and then broke down sobbing because it wouldn't feed correctly.
My mind still races. I have difficulty concentrating. I'm agitated and irritable and feel restless like I need to MOVE. If I don't stay constantly busy, depressive thoughts try to steal their way back in. They slink around in the background, waiting to pounce, waiting for me to let down my guard.
And I'm supposed to go back to work. In a high stress job that I absolutely LOVE, but that requires me to be at the top of my game. That requires me to focus and concentrate and make snap (sometimes life and death, literally) decisions.
My manager is awesome. She's a godsend. She'll support me in whatever I need. For this I am lucky. For this I am grateful. But I can't afford to be out on leave - and I only have 6 more weeks of FMLA available anyway. After that . . . nothing. And with my track record of hospitalizations . . .
So I'm worried. I'm worried about how I'm supposed to go back to work. Maybe next week I'll be more stable. Maybe next week I won't be overwhelmed by everything.
And maybe I won't be better.
And so I worry.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
I'm writing again because I need to vent. My blood is boiling right now. My anger and irritability is skyrocketing and I feel like screaming and crying and putting my fist through something. I need to completely lose my shit.
People. People piss me the fuck off. A few people in particular. A few people who seem to think that if I change my diet and go outside more I'll be "cured" of bipolar disorder.
As if it's that simple.
Don't you think that I would have FUCKING DONE THAT ALREADY if it was that simple??????
You know what? No. I'd rather be bipolar. I'd rather put myself, my family, and my friends through FUCKING HELL rather than going gluten free.
Stupid. Fucking. Moron.
I've gone gluten free. I've cut out sugar. I cut out caffeine. I exercise, I meditate, I pray, I get outside, I play, I read positive quotes in the mornings, I give myself positive affirmations. I do all this shit and I'm not fucking cured.
Fuck gluten free. Gluten is fucking delicious and I eat it again. Fuck caffeine free. I fucking love coffee and I drink it in moderation. Fuck sugar free. Artificial sweeteners can be more harmful and everything in moderation is fucking okay.
FUCK YOU FUCKING FUCKERS WHO PISS ME THE FUCK OFF.
What I'm feeling right now is not rational. I know this. But I can't fucking control it at the moment.
And that's why I'm writing.
So I don't fracture my knuckle again.
People. People piss me the fuck off. A few people in particular. A few people who seem to think that if I change my diet and go outside more I'll be "cured" of bipolar disorder.
As if it's that simple.
Don't you think that I would have FUCKING DONE THAT ALREADY if it was that simple??????
You know what? No. I'd rather be bipolar. I'd rather put myself, my family, and my friends through FUCKING HELL rather than going gluten free.
Stupid. Fucking. Moron.
I've gone gluten free. I've cut out sugar. I cut out caffeine. I exercise, I meditate, I pray, I get outside, I play, I read positive quotes in the mornings, I give myself positive affirmations. I do all this shit and I'm not fucking cured.
Fuck gluten free. Gluten is fucking delicious and I eat it again. Fuck caffeine free. I fucking love coffee and I drink it in moderation. Fuck sugar free. Artificial sweeteners can be more harmful and everything in moderation is fucking okay.
FUCK YOU FUCKING FUCKERS WHO PISS ME THE FUCK OFF.
What I'm feeling right now is not rational. I know this. But I can't fucking control it at the moment.
And that's why I'm writing.
So I don't fracture my knuckle again.
The Obligatory New Year's Post
Happy New Year, blah blah blah.
I typically don't do new year's resolutions. Planning something on this day doesn't make it any more likely that you'll succeed than if you planned it on any other day. It's a day to make empty promises to yourself to make you feel better about yourself.
So let's get this show on the road. Here are my New Year's Lies To Myself:
1. I will not be funny.
2. I will not get better.
3. I will not shovel a shit ton of manure.
I think 3 is a respectable number of lies. Golly, I hope I live up to them!! (that is sarcastic font by the way. Pretty snazzy, yeah? You're welcome.)
In other news, the Geodon seems to be reaching more therapeutic levels. I'm feeling better, not as much irritability or anger. Thank the baby DeJesus!! My sleeping is also starting to mellow out - not as much grogginess.
Yesterday I spent the day in Estes Park with my two favorite people (hubby and son - though I would've taken Tom Hiddleston . . .). I was calm, peaceful, and happy for the most part. I had a few moments where I could have lost my cool, but I kept it under wraps. Go me! *high fives self*
Driving home I did get a little hypo manic - racing thoughts, pressured speech, slight irritability. I had this idea for a painting of a wolf barfing out ravens. Hundreds of ravens. No, I don't know why - my brain is stupid. But there was this urgency in needing to get this painting done. Like, yesterday. Fuck everything I have to paint!! But after we got home I calmed down and the painting idea seemed a bit dumb. I had no desire to paint it. I'm sure if I remained hypo I would have stayed up however late necessary to finish it though.
Today I've been stable as well. Not as groggy this morning. My son and hubby wanted to teach me how to play Minecraft. Now, let me start by saying I don't play video games. My days of video games died out with the first playstation. I just don't play. So now we have my hubby and 6 year old trying to teach me how to use a controller with like 30 buttons. I don't even think I'm exaggerating.
I probably am.
But it feels like 30 buttons. That's the point. That, and I don't play video games. And Minecraft is boring (I've watched them play for a little bit before). But oh well, let's play.
No.
Not only no, but hell no.
I managed about 5 minutes of play before I felt like my whole world was going to crash down around me. Literally. I was instantly overwhelmed and anxious and felt like crying and hiding and giving up on life.
With this, I'm not exaggerating. What the fuck, self? Seriously? Seriously?? How fucking stupid is that? Here, have a controller. Noooooooooo! *runs screaming in other direction, sobs uncontrollably*
I handed the controller to J and told them that I'd watch. It took me a half an hour to fully calm down. And this is why we can't have nice things.
That last bit didn't make sense, but I don't really care.
So I still get overwhelmed easily it seems. Which makes me worry for work. I'm taking an extra week off at the "suggestion" of J and my therapist. Neither of them feel that I'm ready to go back to work and that if I do, I'll end up sick again. Which is probably true. But pride people. I has it, and I hate missing yet another week of work.
But a controller to an Xbox 360 almost made me lose my shit. So I see their point.
Well played, brain. Well played.
I typically don't do new year's resolutions. Planning something on this day doesn't make it any more likely that you'll succeed than if you planned it on any other day. It's a day to make empty promises to yourself to make you feel better about yourself.
So let's get this show on the road. Here are my New Year's Lies To Myself:
1. I will not be funny.
2. I will not get better.
3. I will not shovel a shit ton of manure.
I think 3 is a respectable number of lies. Golly, I hope I live up to them!! (that is sarcastic font by the way. Pretty snazzy, yeah? You're welcome.)
In other news, the Geodon seems to be reaching more therapeutic levels. I'm feeling better, not as much irritability or anger. Thank the baby DeJesus!! My sleeping is also starting to mellow out - not as much grogginess.
Yesterday I spent the day in Estes Park with my two favorite people (hubby and son - though I would've taken Tom Hiddleston . . .). I was calm, peaceful, and happy for the most part. I had a few moments where I could have lost my cool, but I kept it under wraps. Go me! *high fives self*
Driving home I did get a little hypo manic - racing thoughts, pressured speech, slight irritability. I had this idea for a painting of a wolf barfing out ravens. Hundreds of ravens. No, I don't know why - my brain is stupid. But there was this urgency in needing to get this painting done. Like, yesterday. Fuck everything I have to paint!! But after we got home I calmed down and the painting idea seemed a bit dumb. I had no desire to paint it. I'm sure if I remained hypo I would have stayed up however late necessary to finish it though.
Today I've been stable as well. Not as groggy this morning. My son and hubby wanted to teach me how to play Minecraft. Now, let me start by saying I don't play video games. My days of video games died out with the first playstation. I just don't play. So now we have my hubby and 6 year old trying to teach me how to use a controller with like 30 buttons. I don't even think I'm exaggerating.
I probably am.
But it feels like 30 buttons. That's the point. That, and I don't play video games. And Minecraft is boring (I've watched them play for a little bit before). But oh well, let's play.
No.
Not only no, but hell no.
I managed about 5 minutes of play before I felt like my whole world was going to crash down around me. Literally. I was instantly overwhelmed and anxious and felt like crying and hiding and giving up on life.
With this, I'm not exaggerating. What the fuck, self? Seriously? Seriously?? How fucking stupid is that? Here, have a controller. Noooooooooo! *runs screaming in other direction, sobs uncontrollably*
I handed the controller to J and told them that I'd watch. It took me a half an hour to fully calm down. And this is why we can't have nice things.
That last bit didn't make sense, but I don't really care.
So I still get overwhelmed easily it seems. Which makes me worry for work. I'm taking an extra week off at the "suggestion" of J and my therapist. Neither of them feel that I'm ready to go back to work and that if I do, I'll end up sick again. Which is probably true. But pride people. I has it, and I hate missing yet another week of work.
But a controller to an Xbox 360 almost made me lose my shit. So I see their point.
Well played, brain. Well played.
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