The Bloody Doors Off

I’ve gone through a perspective shift the past two days.

When I was brought into the secured ward, I had no control over what happened to my life outside of the hospital. What if I was there past the end of the month? How would my rent be paid? Other bills? Who was going to take care of my pets? (While I asked my former roommate to take care of that issue, I knew it wasn’t a wise idea. Thankfully I had a friend on hand.) But it truly worried me. And I think that was one of the reasons why I was able to put on a brave face when I finally met with the hospital psychiatrist and psychologist.

Because there were things I had to take care of.

Before I entered emergency, I wrote a draft email to my two recurring clients. Informed them of a health issue that may take me away from working for the short-term. Gave my password to my friend, with instructions to send it should I be admitted. I fed my cats one last time. I made sure any outstanding jobs were completed.

Yesterday, it occurred to me that yes, I’m still struggling. Scared that I’m not handling things as well as I need to be. So I’ve gotten my ducks in a row.

Rent is being forwarded to the landlord. Invoices are drafted and mailed to my clients, which will be processed in the middle of November. Informed the landlord about damage to the floor in the former roommate’s room. (Very disappointed he never told me about this. Says a lot about character.) I’m going through the fridge, looking for possibly spoiled/about to spoil food. The gas is now under my name, as well as the new roommate’s. Just in case. Bills are paid and will carry through the month of November.

Not my first choice, but this time I’ll be prepared. If it comes to it, this will be one less stressor while I get better.