I finally talked

Last night, it was funny, I was working at a site, and Jake was working at another site really nearby, and neither of us had any real work to do, so I came over to his workplace, because it was empty and quiet, and also had heat, while mine did not.

He told me his wife is pregnant. 13 weeks. So far the ultrasound looks like a girl. I guess I knew that was coming. Still, it makes me sad, just because we are so old. And I guess because I can never see that being something I want. I don’t think it has really hit him yet, as he is still planning a trip to Thailand in another couple of months – alone.  I suspect that will not be allowed.

I was flying high, because I haven’t been sleeping and still have been fiddling with the med dose.

In a way that was good, because we could talk about stuff. I was fairly uninhibited, and we opened up the subject of going back to that shrink from several years ago. The last one I saw, who was annoying, wanting to counsel me about stuff I didn’t want to be counseled about anyway, I just needed meds.

Anyway, Jake told me I should call him, not feel bad. He tried to figure out why that call would be so hard for me to make. Partly because I swore I wasn’t going back, but also partly because that shrink has only seen me batshit crazy, and, quite honestly, I’m embarrassed to go back because of that. I just can’t revisit the scene of my last meltdown, see someone who saw that all up close. Now that I have been healthy for so long, it is like a different person.

But Jake gave me some perspective. Told me that that is what his goddamn job is, that’s what he signed up for, to deal with other people’s shit. Which is kind of a point. Still. I guess it expresses my fear of going back to being fucked up. I just do not want to revisit that time in my life.

But also as I said, I am terrified that these 4 years in balance, years where I was like everyone else, years of productivity and contentment, are going to fade away, will be a brief respite, like in that book Awakenings, where they are rescued, but then fade back into whatever they were before.

These four years have allowed me hope, hope for a  normal life, a better life than I ever expected for myself. I am afraid that all of that will vanish. I just cannot go back to that life. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

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3 Comments

  1. Interesting blog. We share some thoughts on all this. Thanks for leaving comments on mine. I’ve been really ill. I’m finally feeling better and I’m not yet sure how my blog will evolve. But I appreciate hearing from you.

  2. I hear you. My god, do I hear you. I had three good, stable, years on medication…and then it stopped working, despite dose increases and augmentation. The slow, and then not-so-slow, severe decline has been just unbearable. I can’t face the thought that I’m going back to that life…that this is going to be the rest of my life. Like you said, I just cannot go back to that life. Like you, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

    But what if I can’t stop it?

  3. Hey, I just now, for some reason, got notified that I was getting comments. Thanks to everyone for stopping by.

    Sarah, do you write anywhere? I’d love to have a link if you do.

    Susan, hope things get better soon. I have had some terrible times myself. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.


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