So guy-who-is-paid-to-listen-to-me-whine (who, one day, I will be comfortable calling a psychiatrist. One day. Maybe) urges me to be patient with the mood-swingy pills of randomness. Though we are adjusting dosage thingies. My main problem remains the doubting of my own emotional responses. I can handle the mood swings, not knowing whether something is real or not just bothers me a lot. He's also very reluctant to discuss when I'll be finished with them *suspicious narrow eyes*
And I still keep second non-breakdowny pills on my for when I'm having a panic attack, meltdown or just deciding to fall to the floor sobbing for no damn good reason. Because, frankly, it's not a productive way to spend the day, it's rather irritating and wrinkles my clothes. And I don't like it. Not a lover of those pills either though. They tend to leave me dazed, listless and generally less sharp.
Breakdowny moments don't seem to be stopping, but do seem to be much much rarer. Which I think is realistic but my miracle cure mind wants it all to be done and finished already. Which is silly, I mean, over a decade of badness isn't going to just vanish because of the SUPER PILL. Still whiney-bloke says it may be because we're examining badnesses (and possibly going too fast and/or I need stronger pill. Booo to that).
I still have issues taking any kind of medication that is giving me a headache. I don't like taking pills. Any kinds of pills. It gives me the heebie jeebies. My jeebies are being heebied!
Work has become aware of my pill taking, largely because I've had a few too many meltdowns. On the plus they've been reasonable of my needing to take time outs now and then to try and get my shit together when I have lost it (though we need to address the creeping bloody hours “oh you don't need time for family,” thing AGAIN). So kudos on that front. Less kudos on the excessive questions – I'm not particularly inclined to tell my bosses, my colleagues et al what pills I take, how often, whether I'm in therapy, why I am etc. I'm not happy discussing this stuff with Whiney-guy I don't want it batted around the office. Especially since any mention of anything homophobia related inevitably gets lots of “noo surely not! It cannot be!” shock or “you're exaggerating, surely?” doubt. Which annoys me – especially since lawyers have no right to be this naïve. If and when my problems affect my work performance, my output or my capability (and despite my meltdowns, they have not been affected) – all of which, I might add, are way ahead of my colleagues on the same pay grade – then I'll discuss it. Until then – boundaries! Respect them!
Parents have become aware of pill taking because, well I took them in front of them. I considered lying but I'm not going down that path. My father takes pills for his high blood pressure and his cholesterol. My mother takes pills for blood pressure and diabetes. They're not ashamed of their pills, just because my pills try to keep my head running while theirs keep their bodies running, doesn't make my pills shameful, right? (And yes This is Good and Right Thinking, doesn't mean I've got emotional brain to follow logical brain down that path though. Still I'm beating the route and making myself go down it). Still, they are not impressed. Dad is in full on denial of what these pills are and what they do while Mum is, in classic sense, making this All About Her and how it reflects on her. I'm going with dad's downplaying just to shut them both up, and to generally reassure and support them, quell their fears etc etc. “I'm fine” always makes for a quieter life.
Of course, boundaries are also not respected in the family and neither of them had the good sense to keep their mouths shut. “Not ashamed” doesn't mean “hey everyone has a right to my medical condition”. The family is being screened again – I do NOT need their opinion on the badness. I really do not.
But apparently I have been forgiven. Yes, Uncle Fail and some of his supporters have given me the huuge benefit of the doubt and are totally ready to pretend my naughty naughty behaviour didn't happen – because, y'see, I'm on pills so Not Thinking Clearly. Yes, I wasn't cutting them off, smacking them down, ignoring them and avoiding them because they're homophobic arseholes or because they're enabling and defending homophobic arseholes – no I'm doing it because I'm crazy.
Because, clearly, I have to be completely irrational and out of my mind to disagree with them.
…unless whiney-man has some major league elephant tranquillisers, there's no pill I can take that will get me to swallow THAT. I think I have actually invented entirely new profanity to try and adequately cover this. And I can't even get mad at them, scream at them, hit them with axes or call them exactly what they are – because anything I say they don't agree with is because of the bloody crazy.
So the family is happy and content, those who may worry about me have been reassured and fobbed off in happy pink “fine” land, and all the homophobic arseholes and enablers are happy because they feel vindicated. And in the meantime I'm call screening, not attending any gatherings and basically letting the whole damn lot of them get on with it. My time, energy and patience is far better spent with my husband and my friends.
Oh for a quiet life.