The right choice….

 I absolutely, positively LOVE waking up Sunday morning to dog shit ALL over my living room rug.  Is it THAT hard to kennel the puppy at night?  To remember to quickly throw him in his kennel where he’s perfectly fine?  Ugh, ugh, ugh.  It looks to me like Charger must have got sick with diarrhea in the middle of the night, of course the front door that has the doggie door was closed, so he had no choice but to shit all over the carpet.  Yeah, he could have chose the tile, but that’d make my life too easy.  Now I’m waiting for my grandma to bring over her carpet shampooer as this is disgusting & I want them shampooed, not just washed with water.  Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.  I so love my life.  So much for an enjoyable morning chain smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee while practicing doing nothing.

Had my med appointment Friday.  It went fairly well.  Minus my huge breakdown on the fact my anxiety doesn’t ever stop & I can’t take it anymore.  She gave me a script to Xanax FINALLY and is going to increase the Abilify.  She thinks increasing the Abilify will work.  I’m not a believer in anything at this point.  Nothing works.  She said she wasn’t shocked the Pristiq increased the anxiety.  Why give me a stupid pill that may do that?

We talked about the whole job scenario.  She said I made the best choice possible & the prison job would have most likely killed me.  Literally.  If I chose to do it for any length of time at all.  I guess the working nights was a bad idea with Bipolar Disorder.  She said it would have quickly sent me into a manic tailspin that meds wouldn’t fix if I continued to shift my sleep by sleeping days then nights then days then nights.  She gave me a speech that it will never be an option for me.  Bipolar needs a constant sleep pattern of the same thing following natural light hours (I think that’s what it was called?).  So, I guess maybe I really did make the best choice?  (I’m still sad over it & wanting change, but she seems to think this could be manic beginning again as that’s when I crave change the most & also when my anxiety gets the worst.  Hence the point of increasing the abilify.)

This does make the past make some sense.  I did work nights in what 2009 as a waitress.  I felt I did spectacular.  But that’s also the same time I ran away from home in the middle of the night (literally) and made lots of stupid choices that somehow all worked out.  The running away from home during what they assume was a manic episode is what got me the awesome (not) classification of Type 1 (most severe).  I waitressed night shift for months and days and whatever.  I slept little.  I drank a lot, including at noon regularly.  I felt I was super woman there for awhile.  So, I guess I can now say that maybe I wasn’t super woman or the best waitress you ever met and maybe, just maybe, it was a true manic episode made worse with the shift work.  Maybe that’s why it lasted that long that time.  *sigh*  Yes, all the signs of a massive manic episode are there looking back at that blur of a year.  

So, the point, is I guess I made the right choice as who knows how long I’d of kept the job if I’d have went manic and my meds had quit working right.  Why must my life have to revolve around my mental illlness?  That’s depressing in itself.

That’s about it for today.  The cursor keeps doing the weird thing of going back to the beginning of the paragraph as I type. It’s really starting to annoy me. And I can’t figure out why it’s doing it. Must be an OD glitch at the moment 🙁  Makes typing an entry twice as long.

Today will now be spent shampooing and cleaning.  Fun, fun, fun.