I have a bottle of Zoloft and another of Ativan.
Yesterday I called the psychiatric associates to make an appointment — I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to get in that day or maybe the next, but I was really disappointed to find that not only would I have to wait for Monday, but that this appointment would be for paperwork only, not to see a doctor.
I tried calling a friend in Culver but the phone lines down there were not working. Then I remembered a woman from church who gave me her number this week, and so I called her. She had just been complaining to her husband about having no one to hang out with, so it worked out well for both of us. Amy and I hung out over there with her and her mom and her baby, and the older boys when they got home from their half day. We had pizza for lunch. We walked around their large property and saw the two horses and the cow.
But I had to come home for Amy’s nap and to put a load of diapers in the dryer (I was glad it was raining).
I was able to eat dinner.
Increasing anxiety in the evening. I tried to talk to Mark about some of it — about this sinking feeling that I must be fundamentally flawed as a human being, because having a poor social life has always characterized me. He pointed out that I expect too much from people. Well; yes; isn’t that a fundamental flaw?
Is it the kind of thing I can change or not? Is it rooted in the depths of the core of my being? Or is it merely a surface twist that I can correct with new habits and practice? Is it something that God will redeem in this life, or not until the consummation of the Gospel?
Joe told me that I have this Quest for what he calls Fusion — a longing for the kind of whole world that baby and others and environment form, with no distinction of self vs. others, no sense of loss or lack. And that my task is to grieve the impossibility of recovering or restoring that state, and only then, when I have given up the pursuit, will I be able to live less hindered.
But how does one do such a thing?
Without feeling that giving up the Quest is Death? The death of all my hope, all that I long for, the death of the self I would like to find and be.
Anyway, as I wrote last night, I was mildly anxious and it kept me up much of the night. I found some peace later in the night, but still stayed awake a lot.
This morning I woke anxious, and increasingly so.
I decided to make an appointment with my family practice doctor. He is out of town, but I got an appointment with another doctor in the same office, for eleven.
To keep busy, Amy and I first went to my friend Amy G’s house to retrieve my DBT manual, and Amy G also prayed for me. Then we went to the playground where the Wednesday playgroup was supposed to meet. It was only me and she who did not sit with me at lunch two weeks ago. A little awkward, but mostly just sad for me. Oh? And it was cold and windy. Fortunately I had a jacket in the car for Amy.
Then to the doctor, where we had to wait forever. (Amy cried all the way down the hallway but calmed quickly when she felt assured she wasn’t the one seeing the doctor. And she got a sticker.) But he listened attentively and agreed that some Zoloft and Ativan would be perfectly reasonable while I waited for the Monday appointment.
Off to the grocery to get the prescriptions (Mark has told me she sometimes falls asleep in the shopping cart, and now I got to see it myself), home again to eat lunch and do Amy’s nap.
I feel reasonably okay right now. I am tired. I think I will wash the lunch dishes, go out in the garden, and then maybe lie down with the kitty for a while.
I don’t intend to take the Ativan unless I need it, but if I need it I will take it. Just having it helps defuse some of the power of the panic. Funny, too, how every time I feel remotely normal, I completely question my self-diagnosis. And vice versa.
Wouldn’t it be nice if the Knox office (the psychiatric associates) had a therapist I could connect with?
I am painfully aware of money lately; with current gas prices we have only $30 unallocated in the budget each month. Going to Culver or Plymouth probably costs a couple of bucks each time. To see Joe again would be out of pocket — because he is not in our insurance network they wouldn’t cover anything until after a $4000 deductible. And, folks, we already live so simply and frugally. I can’t imagine what we would cut out of our budget to afford Joe.
Besides, I still want to buy a freezer. 🙂
Woman: why don’t you ever stand up for me? or why do I have to beg?
Man: what, can’t you stand up for yourself? or why can’t you just ask?
Does this conversation ever resolve with not only mutual understanding, but with satisfaction?