Now we all know very well I am not the best at keeping things straight on my to do list.
I wish I could say that I have done and seen so many things! But of course not. I just got distracted reading and cutting pattern tissue.
So the first night taking a split 50 mg tablet of Trazodone along with a ginormous 200 mg Seroquel tablet, went fine. I obviously became very drowsy quickly and fell asleep within about four hours.
The second night… There was definitely stomach pain and the like but I was not sure if maybe it was something I had eaten that day. My insides are notorious for being finicky.
Should I have called the psychiatrist about that? I mean, they have a twenty four hour line set up.
But I didn’t want to call over a stomach ache.
Now last night… Most of the day yesterday, I was feeling anxious, frustrated and on the verge of a sensory overload.
I had bought a bunch of patterns at JoAnn’s five for seven dollars sale and I was really, really excited. McCall’s dress patterns this season are entirely up my alley.
But as they almost all have ‘flared’, ‘circle’, or ‘full’ skirts, they require a bit more yardage. I just don’t feel like I look good in a slim or fitted skirt generally. Just brings all that bad attention to my thighs, you know?
And almost all the fabric I have or have bought recently are two yards at most and three yards at best and most of the patterns require 2 5/8 yds, or 3+.
So, I was feeling pretty frustrated. The numbers were not working. The fabric was not working. And I was starting to get the itchy nigging feelings that I was again a failure, that it was worthless to try, that I would just ruin anything I touched. Those feelings and I was going down faster and faster. It may sound stupid but things have to be just right and fit a perfect order for me. It has to be perfect. I have to be perfect.
Obviously I am not. It doesn’t mean I am any better at accepting it.
And last night I had to cut the strings of yet another friendship and my last standing tie to Tomorrowland and Speedway.
It sucks that once again my very teensy circle of ‘friends’ has become yet again smaller, but it isn’t worth it to stay in a friendship where they do not respect you or even themselves.
In the face of trying to bring some understanding I opened up about my recent diagnosis, including the Agoraphobia.
What do I get?
“It must be so hard for you.”
From such wordy, gossiping Yanks, that is such a quiet attitude.
You could feel the, “let me break out my tiny violin.”
And thus it has been decreed.
Hear ye, hear ye!
Fuck you and your righteous bitch of a wife!
I shall naught to with you forever more!
Thanks to them, the depressive and anxious feelings seeped into today. It has didn’t help that I notice that these meds have supremely increased my appetite and I am now paranoid of my weight. Ana feelings, hello. I hoped I would never see you again.
Wednesday I will see some real friends of mine. They have always been there. They have always understood. They are the family and grandparents I never had.
To bigger and brighter things.
This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.