So this last episode has made me think about a lot of things. About the fights I nearly got into with my doctor, Gerard (OK actually some of those fights were actually played out), people at school and around the neighbourhood, with the woman in the bakery who gave me a pastie when I asked for a pie (I think). Somehow I managed to avoid any conflict too damaging and I think that's because I still had one rational part of my brain watching what was going on. My precious insight (insert eyerolling and sarcastic tone). I went to see my doctor today and she thinks I am much better. That the drugs have worked and that I can start thinking about tapering off the anti psychotics over the next fortnight. Which is good news because they reduce my metabolism, increase my appetite and give me a ferocious dry mouth and make me sleep alot (fat zombie). What follows are my bits from the last couple of weeks (time has gone all weird on me - a bit like my hands which find typing difficult).
Tuesday two weeks ago
I feel like I'm speed and have been for days. But it's not a party, I go to bed at the appointed hour and the thoughts rush around my head until the sleeper knocks me out until and hour or so before the alarm. G is washing the mud from his brickworks off the car with the Karcher and there is a bag of organic couscous sitting in the lounge room. The other day I offered to make a website for our neighbourhood house because it bugs me that they don't have one. As if I don't already have enough to do. Don't dare go shopping, who knows what I would come home for. I did my ironing last night but didn't go to work today, hoping that's a sensible decision. Judgement, or at least having confidence in my judgment, is slipping away. I just told G that I feel like I'm on speed and he said "lucky you" - not unkindly, but really I just want it stop now.
Friday before last
Have been off work all week. My doctor has been funny about the medical certificate even though it is clear I am not coping. I think it is because I am still contemplating going to craft weekend. G is keen for me to go, maybe he needs a break but he would come and get me if I went and it wasn't OK. It will probably be very restful. Not sure if I will get a whole lot of craft done but I don't really care. I would have preferred that if this was going to happen, that if happened after craft weekend and I don't think my doctor gets that. Today I saw her for a whole hour (yikes that's about $275, at least the medicare safety net has kicked in and I can claim most of that back) and she reflected that I seem angry about my work. Indeed. But I don't think that's the whole story and I have pretty much cried most of today. And had a lot of disturbing thoughts. I told her about them. She didn't have much to say but I know they are a big sign that all is not well. It surprises me that I have these kinds of thoughts when I am "up" as well as "down" but I guess I don't really tend to have happy "ups" at this point in time. Maybe I will one day. Anyway with all the crying, sunglasses are my friend. I am seriously considering leaving my job and looking for something a bit less anxious making. But not until I feel a bit better.
Craft weekend, as usual was lovely. I woke up after the first night on the new anti psychotic (zyprexa) feeling like my face was made of crusty and unmoveable dough. The thought of packing was overwhelming and I didn't think I could do the transition from home to there. For the first time ever, I thought about not going. I wonder if my doctor thinking that maybe I shouldn't had an effect. But G was very much in favour of me going. A mix of thinking it would be good for me and good for him I think. Anyway it was a serene oasis. Regular meals, amazing company, doing things at a measured pace and sleep. The lovely Eleanor insisted on swapping beds so that I could have the princess room. I felt a bit guilty saying yes, but the sleep and space to retreat was much appreciated and I didn't worry about my zyprexa snoring. I would have been fine in another bed but the sweet thoughtfulness of this gesture made me feel very taken care of and nurtured.
I went to work on Tuesday and it was bloody hard. I sort of slunk in but ended up having a long discussion with the team leader. She was quite nice about all and more understanding than I expected and I probably said more than I should have. But as my doctor says, that might be a good thing. Have asked for a return to work plan which will mean that I can have my fitness for duty assessed and hopefully can negotiate "reasonable accomodation" for my condition. I'm thinking of things that might make a difference, perhaps being able to schedule leave for tricky times of the year. Maybe using some purchased leave to work out a better schedule for me. We have great conditions, it's just a matter of finding a way to use them.Work by the end of the week was OK. But it is disheartening to notice that I am not the only one running off the rails. Really, we are all delicate flowers and that can be pretty hard to have played out in the workplace.