Wow...what a busy & eventful past several weeks. Long story short...husband and I are being referred to counseling. Here's the scoop:
About 7 weeks ago, husband...we'll call him Fruitcake Jones...literally freaks the fuck out. The doctors call it a "Manic Episode". I call it crazy town. Fruitcake doesn't remember a damn thing, so he calls it the week he lost. If you've never witnessed such an event, well, it isn't pretty. Mr. Jones, normally quite "normal" for an OCD hoarding freak, became extremely agitated, had a constantly horrific headache, couldn't sleep, tried spray painting light bulbs (because he needed a reptile bulb and our local pet store was out of stock), constantly left the gas burners on the stove burning at full strength (which I would find after returning from a long and stressful day at work), and let me tell ya, those are only a few of the symptoms. It was a week in hell. I feel for anyone that is dealing with that BS on a constant.
Anyhoo...after losing consciousness and spending 24 hours in the hospital having every test know to man for this sort of condition, he was sent along his merry way with two nice prescriptions in hand. Yeah for drugs. I do say in all sincerity that these drugs are seemingly working for him, as best I can tell, because the mania hasn't returned and the pencil/rubber band/magazine hoarding is relaxing a bit. I believe I saw Fruitcake throwing out an entire crate of empty bottles...that is a fucking miracle, I'll tell ya.
So we followed up with a Psychiatrist (aka The Specialist) and after "interviewing" three, decided on one that we (ok, me) like and feel has our best interests in sight. After a 30 minute recap of the past 40 years of Fruitcake's life, The Specialist decides that A) the meds should be taken for the duration of at least one full year at which time we can reevaluate the need for medication and B) the second, and equally important, component of recovery will be psychotherapy...as in couples therapy. So let me get this straight: Mr. Jones freaks out and I have to go be shrunk? WTF is that all about?! *sigh* I'm thinking that the Specialist is working with Ms. Mindbender to creep into, and ultimately control, our minds.
But of course I will go with Mr. Jones; it is a necessary evil. But honestly...I'm scared shitless. Even thinking about our first visit in 13 days is enough to get my heart rate up. (I wonder if that is the equivalent to running a mile? Hm. Note to self: check on that.) The fact that I will be sharing the most intimate of personal details with a complete stranger trained to dissect a human with mere words...well, that's awful fucking freaky, my people. Will I be discussing my childhood? My mother? The loss of my virginity? Are we the last people on Earth to have made it to 40 without the assistance of drugs (well, me anyway) and psycho-babble? The strange thing is...I'm afraid and yet strangely anticipatory at the same time.
Yeah, I'm screwed.
1.18.2009
And so it begins...
I've been thinking of blogging for many years; I've only now set fingers to keyboard. I suppose this, my very first blog, will share with you fine people a little of myself. I'm warning you now: I am convinced that I have the sense of humor of a 15 year old boy. I also tend to be a little racy and will put things out there, just to see what happens. I've always been this way and I make no apologies for it.
Wouldn't you know it...after years of procrastinating, I retire to my room, attempting to have an hour of quiet, uninterrupted blog-time, and the husband and youngest daughter not only come into and interrupt my solice, but they actually sit & read over my shoulder. So I yell at and call them all sorts of names to which they laugh and then make fun of me calling me "Blog Girl" and such. Story of my life. Hang on, let me run these fools outta here. OK. They're gone. Muahaha.
So I've had a rather interesting & colorful life thus far. But at 36, I find myself asking "This is it?" Not that I don't recognize the numerous blessings all around me...I do. It just isn't what I remember thinking adulthood would be like. I rather fancied myself a pop starlet or an award winning actress. Nope. Not even close. Oh sure, I've sung & acted in many a play, had fun even, but never really chased that dream. Maybe one day. Maybe.
I work in an office; I'm an accountant by trade. But please, don't hold that against me. After 15 years, I've finally found a great job...one that will allow me to retain my sanity while working to live (not living to work as so many do). Numerous hilarious tales from the workplace will certainly be forthcoming.
I am married and have two daughters. So there is definately no shortage of drama in our house. *sigh* I've often thought of what it would be like to have a son...but I would definately need to be medicated in order to survive any more children. And of course, I'd name him Wolfgang, which would necessitate his being medicated. Besides, I've only 8 years left on this sentenance...I've told the girls that I'll be selling everything & moving to Mexico. It makes them cry. Which makes me laugh. Sad, isn't it? I'm super surprised that I'm not medicated already. Speaking of which...if someone knows the code word for me to use to get some good stuff...please, for the love of God...shoot me a message.
Take the time to get to know me...I'm strange, but it's a fun, really alright kinda' strange.
Wouldn't you know it...after years of procrastinating, I retire to my room, attempting to have an hour of quiet, uninterrupted blog-time, and the husband and youngest daughter not only come into and interrupt my solice, but they actually sit & read over my shoulder. So I yell at and call them all sorts of names to which they laugh and then make fun of me calling me "Blog Girl" and such. Story of my life. Hang on, let me run these fools outta here. OK. They're gone. Muahaha.
So I've had a rather interesting & colorful life thus far. But at 36, I find myself asking "This is it?" Not that I don't recognize the numerous blessings all around me...I do. It just isn't what I remember thinking adulthood would be like. I rather fancied myself a pop starlet or an award winning actress. Nope. Not even close. Oh sure, I've sung & acted in many a play, had fun even, but never really chased that dream. Maybe one day. Maybe.
I work in an office; I'm an accountant by trade. But please, don't hold that against me. After 15 years, I've finally found a great job...one that will allow me to retain my sanity while working to live (not living to work as so many do). Numerous hilarious tales from the workplace will certainly be forthcoming.
I am married and have two daughters. So there is definately no shortage of drama in our house. *sigh* I've often thought of what it would be like to have a son...but I would definately need to be medicated in order to survive any more children. And of course, I'd name him Wolfgang, which would necessitate his being medicated. Besides, I've only 8 years left on this sentenance...I've told the girls that I'll be selling everything & moving to Mexico. It makes them cry. Which makes me laugh. Sad, isn't it? I'm super surprised that I'm not medicated already. Speaking of which...if someone knows the code word for me to use to get some good stuff...please, for the love of God...shoot me a message.
Take the time to get to know me...I'm strange, but it's a fun, really alright kinda' strange.
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