A couple of days ago, I wrote about the downslide I was having emotionally. I wrote before the end of the day, which pretty much ended like it started. Major sobbing.
Yesterday was a little better, but not a lot. Fortunately, I had already scheduled an appointment with my psychiatrist. (I had scheduled this six weeks ago, so what a God-thing on this timing!)
After talking to him, he, of course talked about raising my meds. (That’s what psychiatrists do, basically. Whereas a therapist talks you through stuff.) But, I did basically just yak and yak about what has been going on and how cruddy I felt. He offered to up the Lamictal (the mood stabilizer), but I told him it wasn’t the moods that were swinging, I was just going down. So we upped the anti-depressants. Plus, suggested taking the Xanax three times a day instead of “as needed.”
As is often the case, I felt better by the afternoon. Probably because I know there is a plan.
Better living through chemicals, baby! Look for that tote board tomorrow. Maybe Jerry Lewis could stop by….