That went fast

This is post 800. The last 100 posts have certainly come fast compared to the speed I had been writing. Looking back over the last year, I can see just in the scarity of blog posts how wrong that last job was for me. I'm writing about as much in a week as I was in a month. I'm sure I'm posting more because it has been a very difficult few months and I've had a lot to say, but there was a decently long period of time between starting this job and the countdown to the psych ward, so overall I'd say even with working full-time I've got a lot more time. I certainly feel like it. If only I didn't have to go through medical torment right now I'd probably feel pretty good. Considering what I'm doing to myself I actually do feel relatively ok. This is not fun, but I'm not dangerously depressed, at least not yet. Mostly I'm just very, very anxious and very, very tired.

I finally gave in to the anxiety a bit and wrote to Dr. Brain, asking for any specific information she has. I need to know what is happening. Right now I know nothing more than I did at my visit 2 or 3 weeks ago. And at that point much of this was tentative, depending on what the dr. who will treat me inpatient said. But I still know nothing more than that. I don't even know if I'm tapering at the right pace or when specifically I will be admitted. I don't even know for sure if I'm going to be on the little unit, and I really want to be there. Not knowing is making this so much harder. I hate bugging her; I feel like I'm whining because she's not answered me "fast enough", and I know there are many reasons for her to not respond. But I also know that I'm more anxious by the day and that knowledge will make some of this easier to handle. And she's the only one who can give me that knowledge.

I also am feeling that it is very important to do everything for the next few months that I can do ahead now, before I feel worse. And that's a good thing. But some things are dependent on her before I can do them. I need to do some insurance stuff prior to admission or else I have to pay a huge premium along with my deductible. But before I can do that I have to know what I am doing when.

I just really hope she answers. I really, really need to hear from her. Even if she knows nothing at least I need reassurance that, well, I don't know. That something. That this is real. That this is being handled by someone. Because I can't do it all. Partly because some of it isn't my decision, and partly because it is too much. I'm doing enough to manage at home. I'm realizing that it is time to start getting rid of any meds I no longer take and possibly to start handing over things that might be dangerous to Dr. Mind. I dread this simply because getting rid of pills is challenging. Flushing isn't good for the environment; dumping whole bottles isn't good if someone gets in the trash, and doing what you are supposed to do and mixing it into nasty trash is annoying. Oh well. It's all for the sake of survival.