For those of you that sat riveted to your seats reading about the week I just lived, here is the continuation.

One afternoon, I’m have a chat with my therapist, telling him the bipolar medication I’m on is cool, there’s just something missing.  I loved the bi, hated the polar.  When I was up, holy shit I would get so much done.  I’d write twenty posts, design websites and manage the shit out of everything.  Then the low would hit and I’d disappear.  My mother or husband would come and stay and I’d just cry in a corner somewhere.  Could have been your house, you’d never know.  It’s a corner.  Who notices corners?

The med I was and still am on balanced me fairly well but something still wasn’t right so I was put on an additional medication.  I had full time live in home care (he was unemployed and we grew up together) and I was told that the first month would be difficult so my friend took over.

I was to take this medication three times a day at very specific times.  My friend gave me the meds on time and cared for my kids, cleaned my house (WAY better than I ever did) and helped with the grocery shopping.  I will be in debt to him for the rest of my life for his help, but we’ve known each other for decades so we pretty much brake even there.

I was a zombie (off topic – Zombieland is the greatest movie ever).  The only thing I COULD do was write.  My therapist said it’s because it’s a singular task to focus on, much like I am right now.  That’s why this post has gotten so long, it’s turned into three.  If my link to my virtual world was broken, I was lost.  Confused.  Unable to speak.  I was no longer the outgoing center of attention girl I was before.  I was also stone cold sober, and have been for months.  Weeks passed and I got better but I noticed tremors in my hands and my memory was shot.  Literally shot.  Ask me a question and I’d forget what you asked halfway through my answer.

I slowly started feeling better.  Still had the shakes but I liked the balance I had.  My friend moved out and by day, I was on my own.  I got up, did the mommy thing, did the work thing, did the family thing. Pretty much. Kinda.

I fucked up.  In the past two weeks, I just fucked up.  I was supposed to have a major operation that took weeks for me to mentally prepare for.  Weeks.  I absolutely took my medication on time, I had to be ready.

Those fucktards were forced to cancel due to total and complete incompetence, of which I have a series beginning here, then to here, and the finale is here (viewer discretion is advised on that last one).

That’s where I fucked up.  Stress is the best and worst thing in the world.  I say the best because I assumed I’d gain a shitload of weight since I ate everything in site before my “Noperation”, assuming I’d be living on fluids.  Well, the stress from the lack of said “Noperation” apparently changed the way I eat.  I have been eating McDonald’s daily for about two months and I’ve lost ten pounds.  It’s the poo.  I’m a stress pooper.  That, and the fact that I somehow got full after eating half. While I’m the worst Wii Mommy ever, I am skinny as shit (depending on the shit).  Dude, I’m about to hit the 100 pounds lost mark.  I still encourage when I can but I SO didn’t practice what I preached.  In my defense, look at the clusterfuck my life was.  I’m sure I’m going to hyper-link the shit out of this post leading you to every other post I wrote proving the drama that surrounds me.  Maybe that’s why you read me. Plus, I’m fucking HILARIOUS.

Okay, back on point.  I fucked up.  I said that, right?  It’s only been two weeks since the “Noperation” drama but the aftermath destroyed me.  I live on a schedule.  I need a schedule.  I put every thought into one section of my phone to use for posts or segments within posts.  I schedule everyday family activities in another section and I have to know what I will be doing and when I’m doing it all the time.  It’s security and it drives people crazy (HA.  How does it feel?).  I may be what some consider wild (not anymore, I don’t drink), but I’m consistent.

The problem with the drug I was put on is that if not taken properly, it causes tremors and forgetfulness, as I stated above, I think.  I’m alone most of the day with my oldest in school and my baby is usually napping, dancing to the Wiggles, eating or torturing the cat.  I have thousands of virtual friends (seriously, you guys rock) and a handful of dedicated and loving “real life” friends who would call, text and scream from the other side of the country away “TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!”

Such beautiful people.  I’d spend about 45 minutes replying to each person that I was about to, thus making my medication taking time late and on the way to get the meds (labeled by day and time).  I’d see that the dog wanted to go outside or smell that the baby dropped a hearty one in his drawers and I’d tend to that and completely forget to take my meds until sometimes hours later.  How did I remember?  I’d shake.

Like I said, this was only in the past few weeks, shortly after the “Noperation” denial.  Some wise folks nagged me until the pill was swallowed, that was good.  10-4-10.  That’s how it went.  10AM wasn’t too bad, I was up running around and doing the school/diapers/breakfast things and there’s a giant sign on my fridge telling me I’m crazy so I’d remember it.  10PM is simple because I’m ALSO an insomniac (as is everyone in my family), so I can’t fall asleep without meds (Ambien is the devil – stay away from the devil).

It’s 4PM that’s a bitch.  I kept fucking it up.  Just for a few days, I fucked it up.

…and you can finish this on Monday.  I hope.  If I keep this shit up it’ll run til Thursday.  Mondays and Thursdays are my “write what I want days”.  I told you I need structure…

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