Despite me grandest of efforts, I let myself think a rather foolish thought, Lucky Reader. I let myself, for five seconds, believe that being happy for three days meant that I was all not crazy anymore.
Isn't that a fun trick to play on myself? So silly! Tee hee!
The past couple days have been really rough. Again. Surprise, surprise. But I handled it better than the last bout of badness. Nothing harmful happened this time. In fact, when I had ... bad thoughts ... I made a healthier choice and made a collage. This may sound like a little victory to other people, but to me it's huge. Mostly cause if I could do it once, that means I can do it again.
This was my beaches of Normandy, people.
Plus, Ted really stepped up to the plate and helped me through the worst of it. Before, I had been afraid to reach out to him and tell him about what I was going through. Cause even though he knew about my crazy (and has been wonderful about it, by the by. He's responded with openness and a desire to understand, which is exactly how someone should respond to such news. I really like him, guys...) I was afraid that if he actually bore witness to it it would scare him away. But it didn't. He just stayed on the phone with me until I felt better. He let me talk through it as much as possible, asked questions to help me articulate my thoughts, and tried really hard to just make me smile, which, sadly, is all I really need sometimes. I am so fucking proud of him right now, Lucky Readers, and I feel so very lucky that I have someone like him.
But none the less, its still been rough. Especially in light of the previous low period (which was only about a week ago. That's right, I'm off balance as shit, y'all!). Basically, I had let myself binge on bad behavior during the previous low period. I didn't fight the urges I get and instead I gave into them. Even though I knew that I shouldn't. And that I had been okay for nearly three months prior to that. And afterwards I was left reeling in my own head, wondering what the hell just happened.
Wow. Reading that back it makes me sound like I do heavy drugs or binge drink. Especially in light of the fact that I'm watching Intervention right now. Rest assured, Lucky Readers, I do not. I'm not that crazy.
But, yea. The roughness of the past couple days has been heartbreaking to me. Especially after I actually felt normal, at least much more than I have for a bit now. And to feel this way now ... it sucks.
Suckity suck suck sucks.
But I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. And I'll be going back to Cleveland on the 21st. And the quarter from hell has only two days remaining in it. And the opera's done so I never have to work one ever again (hooray!). And I am loved.
Ecetera, ecetera, ecetera.
So once again, I'm going to keep repeating that stuff to myself. But this is getting exhausting and it's not really working all too fantastically. And I'm getting really frustrated.
I'm trying to get better. But the getting better is making things worse. And I know that it has to be that way sometimes, but COME ON! How much do I have to put up with in order to get there?
I go to my doctors so I can get the medication I need to balance out. But there I have to talk about why I need it and that makes me dig up the shit I hate to think about. And then the rough stuff is just laying there, exposed and raw in a vat of salt. And I can't help but think about it. And then I can't help but dwell on it. And that makes me feel like I did for eight years.
But...things aren't really as bad as I see them as being. Not even close.
And the fact that I have to conciously tell myself that over and over again sucks incrediblly.
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