My fear is that I’m returning to a mixed state. The inability pay attention to TV and reading is there. The irritability is there. The restlessness and agitation are there. The racing thoughts are there. The self-loathing is there. The mind mud is there. The not being able to sleep is there. Didn’t we just do this, friends?
I’m pondering a call to the pdoc, but not without the advice of QoB and Goddess of Mindfulness. Actually, I just picked up the phone to call, but it’s past five. I’ll call in the morning. I know what this is, I don’t need them to confirm it.
So typical, mixed to normal to mixed. Hoping it doesn’t escalate into mania or fall into depression. I hate mixed, but it’s harder to get out of mania and depression. There also seems to be less of a crash when you finish up with mixed.
But mother-effer, it is unpleasant. I am crawling out of my skin. All I really want to do is take my meds and pray for sleep. I know I won’t be able to, so I stay awake and try and occupy my racing brain. I’ve cleaned and re-cleaned the kitchen and done as much laundry as the washer and dryer will tolerate. I’ve read all the blog posts in my feed. I’m running out of things to do.
I’ll have company soon, so that will be a good distraction. I’m just so annoyed and irritable, though, that I hope I don’t snap anyone’s head off. Will have to be very careful! It’s the ones we love most who end up dealing with the ugly stuff.
When I came home from work yesterday, I was greeted by an extremely large (and heavy!) limb that had fallen out of a tree in my back yard and crunched two panels of wrought iron fence and damaged four boards on the wood fence. No significant wind yesterday and the limb isn’t rotten, so not sure what’s up with that.
My first thought was, of course, Kizzie. My heart was in my throat as I walked up to the back yard. Imagine my relief when she came trotting out of her dog door, wagging her tail to beat the band, as if she hadn’t noticed the gaps in the fence. She must be very content to live here with her crazy momma, or at least that’s why I’m telling myself she didn’t run. In all honesty, I think she just didn’t know how to navigate over the broken fence and tree limbs.
So, the company I’m getting ready to have over is QoB, Rock, and the Big Dawg. The Big Dawg is going to mow and Rock insists on cleaning up some of the fallen limb, even though the tree service will be here on Saturday to do that (as well as trim several other dangerous limbs, and maybe take out a whole tree).
These are good people. They have worked all day and giving up their nice, calm evening to sweat it out in my yard. I will forever be indebted, with no way to ever pay back. I mean, I have no usable skills and certainly no money. I don’t think any of them are doing it to be paid back, though. Ok, of course they’re not. They’re just good people. They’re family.
Family is all that’s keeping me going at this point. My sister is coming down from the big city on the 10th and is going to help me whip my house into shape. Dad is going to come over somewhere a few days before that and steam-clean all the furniture. Rock is covering me at work so I can be off that day. And then there’s Mom. She’s always being helpful, even when she doesn’t realize it. And the Big Dawg is always there with some kind words or mowing the yard or dealing with DSB’s mess he left behind.
Good people. Keeping me upright. Keeping me out of the hospital. Keeping me maintaining. Without them all, I would surely be in a hospital, Kizzie would surely be in the pound, and my house would sure be foreclosed on. I don’t know what I’d do without these people, my family. My guess is that I’d be totally fucked.
I hope they know how much I appreciate each and every little thing they do, and mostly, how much I appreciate them all being there to just talk to me and give me some support. I say “thank you” all the time, but I often feel it isn’t enough. I don’t know what else I could do to express my gratitude. I’m just at a loss.