Well, it might be the last train to nowhere, but we'll see.
At our therapy appointment on Monday - scheduled at noon Monday on a somewhat emergency basis - Mark assigned us to write down if we want to stay married, if we think we should stay married, and if yes, "how the hell are you finally gonna learn to show respect for yourselves and the other person?" (As I've mentioned before, the man doesn't mince words!)
So, after much thought and gnashing of teeth I've written a FOUR PAGE thesis in the third person. It reads like a social worker's write-up of a consultation with a couple. It sounds crazy, but using the third person was the only way I could keep my hyper-emotional self out of it. Crying until I puke is not going to get anything done during tonight's session.
In other news, my boss is going to place me on "informal intervention." It's like pre-probation. What it's really like is driving for hours and hours with a police car behind you. You make sure you do absolutely everything right, but you still have a knot in your stomach the whole time.
One of the things she's going to mention is my extremely poor attendance. I've consulted with my union rep and asked if he thinks I should reveal the bipolar disorder. It is basically at the root of everything that I am possibly doing wrong. Needing med changes, getting med changes cause psychiatric upheaval that cause me to miss work. Missing work, after my 10 days are up, means missing income, which causes more stress, which causes more anxiety which triggers a depressive episode. We have yet to find an anti-anxiety med that doesn't cause mania.
That's life today.
How're you?
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