Drugs, No Sex, Some Rock'n'Roll
I increased the dosage of Depakote as instructed. And I had this day... when ... I felt normal.
I went to work. I started work at 7:30. I was really working. I kept working. At lunch time, I stopped for half an hour and forgot about work. Then I started working again and kept going until I'd put in eight hours.
I was not anxious, angry, resentful, paranoid, scared, bored or annoyed.
I remember what this feels like. I want it. I want more of it. I want it to be like this, lots and lots of times.
When people spoke to me at work, I assumed a simple "hello" was a friendly greeting and returned the greeting. I didn't feel my heart race because I felt like I could never do this work.
Wow. This is nice. I hope it keeps on like this.
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Just Us Girls
I like my new therapist. She is ungodly expensive but so far, she's worth every penny. I feel comfy in her office. I am not physically threatened by her. There are plenty of doors - we're each near one.
Already, we've hit at the heart of a few things. We aren't uncapping the landfill. So far, we're just doing core sampling here and there. I've told her things I have never told anyone in my life (I mean, that I remember).
We'd been discussing my idiot dead father and she said, "I know the 'paranoid schizophrenic' diagnosis was thrown around a lot in the early '70s, but I think your father may have been bipolar." I would much rather have had his chin.
Apparently, she's talked to Dr. Yeow, who voiced some surprise on my having called the new therapist.
Here was my reasoning: Most of my therapists have been men. Little to no results from them. Although I did tell the new therapist that Ari and I did manage to keep me alive over twelve years when doing so felt like a very iffy business.
I like her. I feel comfortable around her.
And her dog's name is Dylan.
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Walk On (Ooo my soul...)
Last night, I knew it was time to get started on the house again. Not a lot at a time, because what I need to start doing now is replacing some (Note: Some) of the things that were lost in the flood. Today's trip was to Petco, where I bought five new litter boxes, 40 lbs of Feline Pine, 25 lbs of regular clumping litter, two new box scrapers, a toy for Sophie since her favorite circle toy got drowned, and lots and lots of heroin treats for Boris who is All About the Heroin lately.
I threw out all of the old cat boxes, even the ones that survived upstairs, and filled the new ones with clumping litter. I'll let them freak out over the pine stuff later. They've been through a lot, too.
Taylor is feeling better. I think she's going past denial to the furiously indignant and slightly sore stage of her recovery.
Note to self: Scrupulously clean cat boxes and pureed pumpkin in their food will save me the hundreds of dollars I just spent on Taylor. Seriously, if the boxes are too dirty, Brianna, Taylor, and Blue will not go near them. Taylor just holds it all in. I don't want to know about Brianna and Blue.
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A taste of Autumn is here. I am greedy for more.
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