I am actually feeling much better. Nobody is more surprised about this than I. Maybe I just needed to have a big old pity party and vent a little.. Maybe it is all of your wonderful, supportive comments, phone calls and emails. Maybe it's the vodka. Just kidding. It's definitely the vodka. Hee hee. It's probably that things are coming to a close with the terrible, awful situation that we have encountered. I wish that I could be more forthcoming about it, but I can't for many reasons.
Anyway, yesterday I started to feel the fog lifting and I am beginning to climb back out of the pit. Even with SD gone for a couple of days. It's weird. But I'm not complaining. The kids seem to sense that I am doing better too, because they don't seem to be acting as...cautious?...around me. Of course that might just be my perception. Hard to tell.
After a long day of cleaning last week (was it really last week? It seems like a million years ago)- during which I cleaned the kitchen cabinets, swept AND mopped the floor in the kitchen and breakfast room, cleaned the baseboards and walls, AND? AND? vacuumed the family room - I jokingly said to SD that maybe I'm bi-polar and was having a 'manic' day. He looked at me and told me that our therapist thinks that I am. Boy, that threw me for a loop! But then I stopped to think about it and thought, "Hey, maybe so."
Now, considering the dark period I just went through, I think I will discuss this with Dr. C at our next session. Which will be...I don't know when. I didn't go this week because I just couldn't make myself get out of the house except to get the kids where they needed to be. And next week I had to cancel because Bear is having surgery to have the tubes taken out of his ears. (That child can NEVER do things the easy way. More on that in another post.)
I really think that full-blown bi-polar disorder might be a little extreme, but in researching it (gotta love Google) I think that Cyclothymia might be a possibility. I don't know. I will have to talk to my doctor about it.
Trouble is, my doctor is an idiot. You'd think that the Air Force would make the flight surgeons the best-of-the-best to take care of their flyers. Only not so much. It's more like, "Oh, you're pretty mediocre at everything? How about aerospace medicine?" Half the time I go in there, I get a deer in the headlights look. I pretty much tell them what I think is wrong, what medicine I want to take care of it and VOILA! a prescription is handed to me! I honestly believe that if I were to make half a case for it, I could get the flight doc to prescribe me heroin. As long as I accepted the scrip for 800 mg of Motrin along with it. We call it "Vitamin M." They don't call 'em the "Candy Man" for nothin'!
Whew! Lose focus much? (Isn't that on the bi-polar checklist?)
SO. There you have it. Feeling much better. Though this might be an indication of a serious mental illness. (Thus validating the opinions of countless friends, family members and acquaintances.) Or not. We may never know. But I'm smiling right now, so that's something, right?