Changing The Clocks, Family & Anxiety
This morning at 2 a.m. the clocks rolled back and it became 1 a.m. all over again. It really messed with my sleep because I woke up earlier than I would have preferred several times. Around 8 a.m. I gave up on the hopes of sleeping in.
Today is going to be a big day for me because I am meeting my cousin, Ashley, for the first time since she was a baby – over 20 years ago. Her mom is my aunt who passed away in June of 2017 – I believe. Plus, Ashley had asked me to ask my mom to come as well so that her father could give my mom my aunt’s ashes. Now, my mom is bringing my brother Jeremy as well. I haven’t seen my mom or Jeremy since September of 2017. It is definitely going to be a bigger family reunion than anticipated.
Needless to say, my anxiety is soaring to the surface. At least my mom and I are on pretty good terms now, and I think Jer and I are too since he is the only sibling on my mom’s side who will even talk to me.
Anyway, onto a different subject…
In my last post, I mentioned having a therapy session on Friday (11/2/18) and, well, it didn’t turn out so well. I got one goal accomplished but I am surprised my therapist didn’t try to hospitalize me in the process. Not even 5 minutes into the session I started to cry and rant about how the Physician’s Assistant (PA) treated me like there was no hope left for me and how in return it made me feel hopeless and like everything in treatment is pointless since I am beyond hope.
My therapist assured me that it is not hopeless but then I started to feel like she was taking sides and agreeing with the PA. I started to get even more frustrated, upset, and angry and that’s when I started cursing and dropping F-bombs. I started to feel like my therapist wasn’t even listening to me anymore. Then after a bunch of words on her part as well as mine, I yelled, “The PA only looks at me like I am another fucking drug addict!” And I started crying even more. I cried nearly the whole session. I felt like such a baby.
My therapist ended up going to her computer was able to find me an earlier session with my psychiatrist, Dr. Martin. She then canceled my next appointment with the PA. Someone finally listened to me, but it took a lot out of me to get my point across. I felt thoroughly drained by the time my appointment was over. I feel like a madwoman for acting the way that I did, but at the same point, I feel like I needed to explode in order to get anything accomplished.
Well, the bestie is on her way over for a bit. Thanks for reading.
Until Next Time…
Lots of Love,
Samantha is the author of "My Bipolar Mind: You're not alone," she is also a freelance writer, blogger, and mental health advocate who runs and manages her own mental health blog MyBipolarMind.com.