All the feelings I wasn’t feeling the other day hit like a tidal wave around 12:30 yesterday afternoon.
Here were the events that created the wave:
- My organization is officially closing; it’s now just a matter of when.
- I am taking risks with my medications: taking extra Klonopin, skipping the Remeron, playing about with the Zoloft.
- The pharmacy people were incompetent; my practiced routine was interrupted 3 times – so much error.
- Thinking that I was getting better I didn’t refill my ulcer medication prescription. Last night, I stupidly ate something with pepperoni and Gloria the Ulcer attacked with a vengeance, so I got almost zero sleep.
- I have a job interview…and also a seemingly strong lead on another. Both of which are great, but now I worry that I’ll get stuck in that position where I’m juggling interview, job offer, and start date timelines.
- That exact scenario happened the last time I secured a job. I made my current organization wait nearly a week before committing because I was holding out for my #1 choice.
So anyway, at 12:30, I was at the pharmacy asking and answering too many questions, while a dozen people, patrons and pharmacy workers, were boring holes into me…and I got hit with the “if one more thing happens you are going to start weeping. Get out now.”
That feeling has taken residence.
The irony is that I drafted a post scheduled for today that was about how things were looking ok:
- My medication cocktail seems to be moving in the right direction.
- I probably am not going to be in the first round of lay-offs at the company.
- More things that usually cause me incredible amounts of anxiety seem possible. Still difficult, but possible.
Now, all gone and it’s my fault.
- I should take all medication as prescribed and remember to refill things on time.
- I should keep a food journal to track my intake so I can recognize patterns that trigger depression and/or Gloria the Ulcer.
The prevailing thought is that I purposefully messed with the medication because I was feeling better.
And I don’t know what normal means. Because I’m afraid to feel better.
Because feeling better means acting normally.
Yet I don’t think I can do it.
And I don’t want to fail.
Because I will fail.
Because I am a failure.