I have some longer posts writing themselves in my head, over and over again, which I know will drive me crazy until I get them out. Yes, the urge to blog is back. But first – this week/yesterday.
Yesterday I put on a fine display for my therapist of just how chaotic I can be. I hadn’t slept at all for two nights, and wasn’t exactly sure whether or when I had eaten. Hadn’t taken lorazepam or zopiclone, since I had none, and hadn’t drunk any alcohol either. Had been reducing quetiapine and down to 150mg a night, which has no discernable effect. So none of the substances that keep things quiet and shut things down. Was rapidly descending into a state of gibbering and grimacing. Very loud internal chatter on a whole variety of topics from chicken pox to computer games to colour genetics, with a bit of reincarnation and a few unsolved murders thrown in. Utterly failing to actually achieve anything, since I simply couldn’t organise thought into action.
But I made it to therapy. Walked too fast there, and the noise of the world was mixing and conflicting with the noise within. Sat down and the fun started. Violent shaking, exaggerated face-twitching, involuntary movements (hands fidgeting away in the air), staring, stuttering, random talking (“There are 38 species of insect that are solely dependent on the ragwort plant . . .”), even more random laughing (because my life is irrational, nonsensical, ridiculous).
My therapist took it all in her stride. The more I see her, the more I show her, the more I let her see, the more I am gradually reassured that I am not too difficult, too mental, too much, that she can handle this/me.
She’s also just so fucking kind. Walking down the stairs to leave I was shaking and wobbling and kept having to stop and shut my eyes. She said “I’m worried about you walking home, please will you let me make you another cup of tea.” Took me into the kitchen and sat me down and sat with me a while. Kept saying “I really don’t want you to worry or feel bad about this, it is fine, it really is okay.” Made me promise I would go home via the shop and find something to eat. Offered to go to the shop with me if that would help. Said she would check in with me today.
I did come home via the shop, but I couldn’t keep my promise, because I then discovered that I’m pretty much broke. Stood by the cash machine a while rubbing my face and trying to think, but simply didn’t have the mental capacity at that point to do the necessary sums and equations re what was essential and what I could afford. So just came home. Made yet more tea. Took 500mg quetiapine – as I said I’m trying to reduce it, but sometimes needs must. Suddenly realised I felt frozen. Put the heating on, wrapped myself up in blankets, curled up on the sofa, and eventually managed to fall sleep. Wow, I really really needed that.
Kit the Git woke me up at 3am. You know how it goes – he pats my face and purrs in my ear, I try to hide under the duvet, somehow those persistent paws still come sneaking in, eventually I give up and get up. Made coffee with the last of the milk and managed to force down some toast. Feeling rather fragile and exhausted but a whole hell of a lot steadier and saner. Today I need to tackle the shopping problem, do some laundry, get in the bath. I’ll be okay.