I don’t have a ton of news, but there were a few pieces too important to sit on. First and foremost: My doctor is willing to take over prescribing my Adderall. Woot! It means that I can go back to taking two pills a day, which is a relief. Life was pretty draggy with just the one dose.
I’m going to try to find a new psychiatrist. I’ve wanted to do this for a while, but I was trapped with the current one because I figured no one else would prescribe me the Adderall. Now that I know my doctor will, I’ve got choices again.
This guy wasn’t great at listening. I appreciate that he didn’t want to throw medication at problems, but it seemed like he’d shut down and stop listening if he thought we were asking about additional meds. In fact, when I broached the subject of my anxiety he just told me I should work on that my own and not rely on medication.
To be fair, the epic anxiety I was dealing with ebbed not too long after that visit. But the more I think about the different things I worry about, the more I see that I’m actually overly anxious about a lot of things. A whole whole lot of things. So many things.
My worrying is worrying
I keep finding new ways that what I consider normal is actually serious anxiety.
I worry about how many miles we’re putting on the car, even though it’s less than 15,000 a year. But I think about the fact that Tim drives 50 miles round trip for his massages (and can’t get them closer and still get the same $35 rate, which is all we can afford) every single week. My heart rate speeds up and I think about the car getting too many miles on it too soon and dying before we have the money to outright replace it.
And in case that one sounds too sane to you, I worry about ceiling fans. The ones in our bedroom and the guest bedroom rock slightly — slightly— so naturally I worry that if we use the high settings then the fans will come crashing down. I hate even putting them on medium speed.
Oh and tripping. I constantly picture myself tripping on something and breaking or knocking out my front teeth. Like, any time I’m in a new place (and sometimes in places I’m familiar with) I can’t help but picture myself falling and seriously injuring myself — always the teeth for some reason.
And let’s not forget the tile. I’m constantly worried that I’m going to drop a dumbbell and it’ll crack the tile. Which might (but probably wouldn’t) happen if I dropped a five lb dumbbell from a few feet off the ground, but the worry consumes me if I’m holding a dumbbell and not focusing very hard on a workout video.
And let’s not forget about zombies. That one is just exhausting and embarrassing.
I looked up the symptoms and think it’s a pretty good bet that I have generalized anxiety disorder, though obviously I’m not a professional. But if that is what I have and I could get some (non-benzo) medication to help ease some of the anxiety… I can’t imagine how much more energy I’d have and how much less grumpy I’d probably be. It feels like I spend hours a day being tense and worrying too much.
On the other hand, the idea of easing my anxiety gives me anxiety. Because part of me still thinks this is natural and smart. That only someone oblivious wouldn’t worry about cracking tile or tripping and falling or picture getting into an accident every time you drive. If you didn’t worry about those things, if you’re not vigilant, then something bad could happen.
It’s a weird bit of logic, but it’s compelling to an anxiety-riddled brain.
Itchy itchy itchy
I got my first mosquito bites of the season and they’re driving me crazy. As you may recall, I’m mildly allergic to some (but not all) of the bugs down here, and one of the two bites was definitely from the kind I’m allergic to. Left alone — no scratching, no cloth rubbing against them — one bite shrunk to the size of a dime, while the other one stayed closer to a quarter.
Meanwhile, I can’t find the ointment I normally use (a corticosteroid, so essentially cortisone-on-crack) and we’re out of Claritin. We have some 1% cortisone/anti-itch cream, but that just ain’t cuttin’ it.
There’s another corticosteroid in the house from Tim’s last flare-up. I put a little on last night, then thought better of using a medication not prescribed to me. So I wiped (read: carefully dabbed) it off.
It’d almost certainly be fine, but I’ve been extra anxious lately. My brain kept going to “allergic reaction” or “drug interaction.” Neither of which is very likely with a corticosteroid, but this is the same brain that’s afraid of zombies so… Not really worth trying to attack the situation with logic. If I do decide (out of desperation) to use the ointment, I’ll need to make sure I do it in the daytime where Tim and I can monitor any reaction I’d have.
But I think a general antihistamine should be okay this time around. I’ll send Tim up to the store later to get me some (generic) Claritin. Still, I’ll need to wait until nighttime because the last time I started Claritin I was loopy and drowsy. Hopefully, if it does make me woozy again, some sleep will make me feel a bit better by the morning.
So I guess for now I’m looking at a day full of on-again, off-again ice pack use.
It’s finally happening
Other than that, Tim and I have a very stressful week ahead. Why? His SSA disability hearing is on Friday morning. He’s very pessimistic, and I’m… I vacillate between pessimistic and optimistic. I can’t bear to get my hopes up completely, but I desperately want to believe that we won’t have to take the next step, which (as best I understand it) requires us to essentially sue the federal government for his benefits.
For now I guess I’ll just try to stay focused on the tasks at hand and hope the week doesn’t drag too much. Goodness knows I have enough things that need doing right about now. That’s always true with two chronically ill people.
Here’s to the week speeding by!