The Bloody Doors Off

I’ve been putting off getting a refill of my Lorazepam, which is fucking ridiculous. Trying to control anxiety attacks without it have been difficult to say the least. It slammed me tonight, and kept me from going out and having a great evening.

Anxiety is a bitch. Breathing brings me back to earth, but it takes a good while to get there. I think I’ve put off getting the Lorazepam because I hate relying on pills. I take too many already. And yes, there’s the money issue. The EI medical is held up so I’m counting every dime. I put rent aside the first week of the month right now, and refuse to touch it, even for pills. I need the security of having a roof over my head in the back of my mind.

So tonight’s anxiety was a mixture of things. EI was the main, worrying about the upstairs neighbours not moving out — thinking I’d be subjected to more torture from them grated my gears — and not having really written in the past couple of days. The first two, I have no control over, and that’s frustrating. The last one, I do have control over; I just need to exercise it. Anyway the topper was a “hey, if I pack up stuff right now and run out and catch a train, I can spend the evening with someone”. It wasn’t visiting that was the problem. It was organizing it all last-minute. The having to remember to pack my pills, my cpap. I worried I’d forget something important, like my anti-depressant for the morning. It sounds ridiculous, but when the pressure builds and the doubt creeps in (I mean shit, I boiled water and poured myself a tea earlier and let the bag seep in, but then promptly forgot it was there for me until the water was almost too cool to drink), it fucks with my short-term memory. And I don’t like that.

I had to write down “pay rent” on the whiteboard today to remind myself, because the 1st fell on a Sunday and for some reason that acts as a blind spot for me.

One step forward, one step back. I can learn from that.

I can learn from that.