but i can't feel this way one minute longer. i may have slit my wrists by the time they take affect. i got into a fight with doc this morning and he avoided me the rest of the time he was home. and now i'm alone. usually, this is no problem. today it is killing me. i'm sitting here (waiting for the meds to kick in), praying he runs out of gas closer to here than a gas station so he has to come back and be late going in to work so he can be with me even though we can't stand each other right now.
what do i tell my shrink? i guess nothing. i don't take my meds, things get bad. i think we all know that. i don't know what made me forget it today.
he made me feel like shit about myself. and i was looking for a little praise. he has that way about him. he doesn't mean to do it, but it happens and i react to it. i told him to piss himself. that's how mad i got at him, i didn't even get my insults straight.
here's my other dilemma. another one i did to myself and now i don't know what to do. i put my hair back in a pony tail. weeks ago. i want to take it out now, and wash my hair, but it's all tangled up and combing it out will make me cry (i'm tender headed) a LOT. so do i just shave it off? i know, wait until i calm down.
and i've run out of pot and i think i'm going to quit. 2 problems with rehab. the twelve steps. which i think are bullshit. and when i came home, mike planted his fat ass next to me and smoked his bong day after day. i think those two things, more than anything led me to a relapse. no support system at all. now i have one less of those problems. mike is gone. never to be forgotten (too traumatizing). and i think now i can quit. plus i want to quit now. i wanted to then. like now. i want to be sober for a while.
but all this puts me in a bad mood. and i don't even want to lay down to feel better. curling up won't make this better, that's how i know it's bad.
why did i do this to myself? get up. take the meds. easy. no, i have to go and buck the system and fuck things all up. my day is fucked now. and it's going to be so long. i have stuff to do i don't feel like doing. i don't even want to pet a cat.
i smoked a cigarette and i'm starting to feel better. as long as i keep this window open i feel connected to someone.
i told doc i want a dog. he had arguments against it, but nothing really convincing. did i know the responsibility i'd have to take on? and questioning like that. mention of the dog deposit to the rental company and the cost of the dog itself. which we will get from a shelter. i told him i was in no hurry, i just thought we needed a dog to complete the family. he questioned if the cats would adapt, i told him we could find a dog that's good with cats. and there will be a hissy period of transition, but nothing the cats won't live through.
i didn't go into the part where i thought he needed a dog. i didn't want to depress him. this was before the fight. i bet he won't let me name it Dog. oh wait, it will be mature, it will have a name. cool.
i think i can go lay down now. i'm starting to feel better. at least the xanax is working already. and i was ready to take a hundred of those suckers and just go to sleep. but i can't do that to doc. that would be a horrible thing to come home and find. and i can't put him through that. i've already put him through enough already.