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Tell no one

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Reality check

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nhaar

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I had a little back to reality moment today. A panic attack caused by my daughter knocking mightily the front door after school. They usually use their keys or the door remains unlocked whenever someone is home. Today she knocked and I triggered. Sounds ridiculous, I know. Unfortunately that's me. I am terrified of people knocking my door and endless list of other things. A great reminder how f**ked up my mind is. Dear Universe, thank you very much for a reminder.

I got to thinking when you are chronically ill, how do you know when you are well? How do you know when you are mentally stable? My moods are stable thanks to lithium and antipsychotics but am I well now? And what about panic disorder? Does it sync with my bipolar or is it separate? I feel okay. There are no highs and lows but definitely panic attacks and social anxiety. I sleep too much and I can only work part time. This is the best health I've been in years. Is this all I get? Will it ever get better than this?

Being mentally ill all and the rest of my life really is some hard core stuff. Not for everybody but I've made it this far against the odds. I have to get well over and over again without a promise of a better tomorrow. I am managing my moods now. It gives me a feeling of stability. It's a fallacious thought. I have no control over other problems.

I've been suffering from shorter days and now I am afraid I am facing a new challenge. I work only 60% but it's taking 100% of my brain capacity. I've worked only five shifts since I got back. I get through my shifts very well but at home everything feels too much. I've lost my concentration and therefore writing is not a pleasure but a stuggle. Every blog post or whatever is becoming harder and harder to carry out. I wonder if I tried to compensate working only 60% with writing 40%. Why do I need to give 100% of me when I am clearly not up to that? 

There's no going back to my old life. I won't survive that life anymore. I've reached a point where there is only one way to go. Meeting reality.

 

(By the way, the panic attack was a real deal today. It left my body so exhausted that I fell asleep and burnt a cassarole in the oven.)

 

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