when the mentals strike

I like to think that I’m in a reasonably good place with my mental health recovery process. I’m still working at the same place I have been since the start of this, I get up and go to work every day, I pay my bills, I maintain relationships with my family and friends, and I do a reasonable job of taking care of myself. But some days, some days it really just doesn’t pay to chew through the fucking leather restraints.

Let me set the scene…

Monday is Humira injection day. It’s certainly not a terrible thing but I always have a small reaction at the injection site. It itches like holy hell for a little while and then the area stays kind of hard for another day. Not unbearable but not exciting either. Add to that a delightfully large and unpleasant cyst in a particularly unpleasant place. And rain. We’re getting enough rain right now that I’m honestly considering building an Ark.

Yesterday morning I started getting texts from my “friend” on campus at 6:30am saying he needed help with something. I put him off but FFS, I do not like starting my day by being harassed like that. Besides, I had a rotten data collection project to get done for my boss.

Then the emails from the particularly needy faculty member started flooding in and I just wanted to jump through the computer and give her a high five. In the forehead. With a metal folding chair.

So by the time I got to talk to Lancelot at lunch my anxiety was already through the motherfucking roof. I was hyper aware of every word, every nuance of tone of voice, all of the reactions to what I said. I hate being like that. HATE IT. Which of course meant that I “read” something that wasn’t there. And then he fell asleep because it was, after all, time for him to do so.

But I didn’t know that. And so I proceeded to commence with a spectacular freak out. Oh it was so ugly and embarrassing…

I was able to talk to him for a few minutes last night before he left for work and, as any sane and rational human being would have pointed out to my mental ass, he was confused as hell but not upset with me.

I absolutely hate being this way.

In other news…

The hat for Mom is coming along nicely. I have the ribbing and the garter section done, should start the pattern rows tonight. The problem is that the yarn she picked is dark blue and purple with black. It is definitely not something I can work on when the light is poor. I am hoping it will be done by the time we leave for vacation on Saturday. Not that I think she needs a wool hat just yet, more just that I’d like to finish it.

4 thoughts on “when the mentals strike”

  1. I wonder if it’s something in the air. I have been on edge for a week. Normally I’m pretty level but this week I feel like my emotional bucket is spilling over all over the place. I hope things settle for you:)

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