Anxiety, frustration, fear and self-loathing. These are all of the emotions I have felt this morning. It’s been a very long morning but I have made it thus far and I will keep trudging through the day. Is it bedtime yet?

I was actually supposed to go the see my doctor yesterday. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving the house so I rescheduled for today. Agoraphobia is a real pain. Thinking about having to leave the house for more than 24 hours did not help at all. I would have been better off if I had went yesterday. Regardless, I summoned up all of my courage and drove myself to the office.

When I first entered the waiting room, there was only one other person. I was okay with that. It only took a few minutes for the office to fill up with people. I suddenly remembered that Wednesdays are when they perform the pulmonary function tests and deeply regretted changing my appointment time. It seemed like I had to wait forever while surrounded by strangers but it was actually only about ten minutes. When they called my name, a wave of relief came over me and I felt much better. That didn’t last long.

Since I have started taking medications for bipolar disorder, I absolutely hate being weighed. The meds cause weight gain even if it makes you too nauseous to eat. It’s just lovely. I am not overweight but I am getting very close to it. Up until just a few years ago, I typically weighed between 98 and 105 pounds. After starting meds, I inched up to 123 pounds and it kept going up. I had lost back down to a comfortable weight but the recent changes in medication has caused me to gain it all back and a few pounds to boot. No matter what I do, my weight will not stay down. As soon as I get it down, I have to change meds again and it screws me up again. When I saw the number on the scale, I hated myself. I hated life. I hated this disorder and all the wretched consequences of it. Perhaps self-loathing isn’t a strong enough word. I eat healthy. I don’t eat much red meat or fried foods. (Both usually make me nauseous.) I eat salads quite often and I eat more vegetables than anything else…and I don’t mean starches, either. Ugh. It’s not me or my diet. It’s the medications. I have no choice but to take them and sit back as my self-esteem plummets. Lovely.

On to the next wave of emotion…

I sit in the room waiting for my doctor to come in. I love my doctor. I really do. His wife is also mentally ill and we have very similar issues. This makes him more understanding and more intuitive. Still, being out of my comfort zone (home), I am nervous. When I get nervous, I fidget. I start tapping my feet faster and faster. I wring my hands and stare at the floor or the wall. If I am talking to someone, I will either clam up completely or ramble on and on and make very little sense. My doctor walked into the room and asks how I am doing. I’m still fidgeting and staring at the floor and I say, “I’m so so. I’m doing okay.” He sits down and thinks a second. He rolls his stool backwards a little and looks at me and says, “You know, when people say to me they are just so so it usually means one of two things. Either you’re doing somewhat ok or you’re ready to jump off a bridge and you don’t want to tell me.”

This is why I love my doctor. Even if I don’t want to talk to him and I don’t volunteer information, he has ways of getting it out of me. I tell him about my recent issues with anger management and what I call sensory overload. He asks if I am suicidal. No. I just have issues with anger again but everything else is ok. I start with anger and move from there so it worries me. Of course, by this time I am rambling on very nervously. He changes me from 50 milligrams of Lamictal a day to 200 milligrams. I think it’s a good idea. Plus I get to take one pill a day instead of the two 25’s I have been taking. He asks how many Xanax he prescribed for me last time. (I take Xanax as needed for Panic Disorder and agoraphobia.) I told him I honestly didn’t know because my husband keeps them and only allows me to keep three or four at a time. He said he was more comfortable with that. I told him I was, too. I am fine as of right now but I understand that could change in the blink of an eye. He wrote out my prescriptions and sent me for routine blood work and I was out of there. I rushed right to my truck after leaving the lab.

Finally, I am going home, right? Wrong. My husband texts me and reminds me that I have to go the vet’s office and pick up my dog’s heartworm preventative. I was hoping he would forget. I had begged him not to make me go. Darn it. I have to do it anyway because he won’t get off work before their office closes. Luckily, I was in and out.

Now just as I am thinking that I am really going to get to go home, I remembered the prescriptions in my purse. My doctor’s office is right beside the pharmacy. Why didn’t I drop them off while I was there? The biggest reason is because I was in a hurry to get out of there. But, I am also not used to being given my prescriptions. My doctor typically phoned them in or had my husband pick them up because of my suicidal episodes. This is the first time in over a year that he has actually handed me a prescription. Wow. I guess I am doing much better. I think I have my bipolar disorder under control. Now if I can just conquer agoraphobia….

Have a great day everyone!

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