I suppose I should say I’m on the wagon again as far as my lifestyle change goes. I seem to fall off the eating wagon more often than I’m staying on it. So today I am back on. In an unsteady world and a volatile household it seems it’s harder than ever to stay on that wagon. Ultimately I’m responsible for my own actions, but like a junkie needing her fix when things get emotional around here I reach for food. The junkie, the carbier, the better. Really the worse but lets be honest here, with mostly healthy food in the house it’s not like I can’t find something to binge on there either.
I only say this because getting off of any hard drug is just plain crazy. And often in the beginning it’s like a roller coaster threatening to go off its tracks at any moment. So today on this morning, I'll get back up on the wagon. However I'm battling on other fronts as well. I'm out of one of my bipolar meds. I depend on them to keep me stable but because this shit insurance I’m on, the company won’t allow for my meds to be refilled until well this morning. I’m hopeful she was able over ride it as without my bipolar meds things are even harder to cope with. It’s not like pain medication where I use it to get high or they wear their usefulness out. It’s about stability and normality and functioning in the world around me properly.
When my meds are off I find it difficult to sleep, difficult to write, and I’m easily agitated and I’m more likely to pick a fight or am easily ensnared into one. I find my judgment is skewed and that mountains are easily made out of molehills and that even though I may be right I find it impossible to walk away and accept the fact the people I am arguing with will never see it my way. I’m likely to escalate a fight. I’m likely to scream, yell, and cry and nothing and no one can console me.
It’s been awhile since my insurance company has pulled this stunt and when they do it I feel so voiceless and powerless I wonder if the new legislation will help me or hinder me. I believe in healthcare reform. And when I get to a point where I’m able to I will more likely than not be generous to NAMI and other various mental health organizations who work with the indigent and the poor. Because considering that I am one of them now, I am hopeful in the future that I won’t be.
Don’t get me wrong, most people without disability who are suffering from what I live with envy what I have, access to medical care. I wouldn’t call it great. 23 visits for mental health is better than 3 but I’ve been in therapy for bipolar disorder since 1999. 23 visits doesn’t cut it. So I have glitch. I need my meds. And chances are they’re waiting for me at Seven Counties. The young woman who works at QOL is a real sweetie and she is always doing her best to accommodate the many clients there.
The old saying, don’t shoot the messenger? It definitely applies to her. This world would be a much more harmonious place if it would just embrace preventative medicine as opposed to waiting until the shit has it the proverbial fan.
My meds have been off since Friday. I had to parcel them out in order to have medicine all three days this weekend. And when I pick them up this afternoon and take the prescribed dose I will more than likely crash and sleep the sleep of the dead.
That being said, I am of reasonably sound mind and body. And I will be able to get up on that wagon in both cases and when I take my bipolar meds I will be back on track. And maybe it will just be a kiddie roller coaster instead of those insane ones that honestly I’m too fat to be on right now but that I will never get on again.