Not in hospital.
We have created a temporary “hospital” consisting of Nurses Mum and Dad — yes, Dad came back for this bit and is taking Monday to mind me. We meet with Jessica at nine a.m. and determine what happens next. I know I need a total reevaluation. Apart from “not psychotic”, I haven’t a clue what this is. Mixed state? Some nasty stress thing? My SSRI quitting on me or something? Someone’s got to help me fix this.
Current Psych told me to take extra meds to get through the weekend, so I am. Once we hear from Once and Possibly Future Psych, Current Psych is fired (he’s the one I’ve been ranting about, who called Darling a waste of my time). Being stoned is no way to live, and it’s only solving the panic. Only a little at that. I slept the night (thirteen hours of it) without any adrenaline-fueled awakenings… and have been dragging all day. So what do I do? Obviously caffeine is problematic — or would it not be, under these circumstances? Could I reap the rewards? God knows I need the laxative effect.
If I don’t do something, I’ll pass out by ten or eleven, likely wake absurdly early — well, tomorrow’s Sunday; I could catch a Mass on Epiphany, ha. Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae, amen. Do you know how much I love that arrangement of the Ave Maria? And I sing it very well. Wish I knew when it was meant to be sung in the church year, if it even is. I’d offer. This is how I pray: with my voice raised in song.
Thoughts tend to jump all over the place. I wonder what that means for me?
Retreating into fictional worlds again. Wish me luck Monday?