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My Floor is Lava

My emotions are all over the place right now.

Ever since my ER visit, & subsequent withdrawal from my latest med, I’m a sobbing hot mess, who can’t seem to figure out if I’m ok, or if my floor is lava.

So, I had a visit with my regular doc today, & I was hoping she could put me on a different med.

Instead, she told me that, because we’re having difficulty finding a med that works for me now…she’s referring me to the psychiatric clinic.

Now, back up a little.

I’ve been on anti-anxiety meds since 2008. Yes, it took a couple of trial-and-errors to find one that worked for me, but then I was on that one for about 12 years, with almost NO side effects.

Then, in October of 2018, I hit a depression so deep, I lay at the bottom of it for a whole year.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for my kids, my Best friend/Nephew, & my parents, I had 3 severe times that winter, where I would have “taken too many”, and just ended it.

I waited through the nice months of 2019. Normally the return of sun, warmth, & natural Vitamin D, can drag me from the seasonal depression.

But, it didn’t happen.

I finally told my doc when it was time for my annual physical (because I couldn’t raise any “give a fucks” to call sooner). I needed an antidepressant.

This was at the middle of December? maybe? Time gets weird when your brain is not balanced right. It’s slippy, & stretchy.

After a couple of weeks, my depression started to peel away like a bad sunburn.

Cue the side effects.

Then the ER visit capper.

Annnnnnd, here we are today.

My LOGIC says that my doc is right, & that a referral is probably the best thing. She’s not a psychiatric specialist, even though she does see a lot of depression/anxiety patients.

My INTELLECT tells me that this is fine, right & good.

My EMOTIONS, colored by the liars and thieves of anxiety and depression, tell me that my doctor has now washed her hands of this nutjob hot mess, who’s making shit up for attention.

And, since the doc told me that she’ll send my referral in, THEN the new clinic will contact me to schedule an appointment…

My lying emotions are now sobbing that they’ll never call, because my doc is just brushing me off, & I’m on my own on this from now on.

Logically, I know better.

Emotionally, the fucking floor is lava, & I’m going to burn.

And I’m having trouble even contacting my Trusteds, because I don’t want to lay this mess in their laps.

I know each of them would slap me on the back of the head & tell me that’s what they’re there for, & to stop fucking around & call them…

Again Cool Logic/vs/Emotional lava.

I just can’t right now.

I can smile, but it still burns.