I’m having one of those days when I feel like I need to say something, but don’t know what it is that I want to say.
I’m coming down from a manic episode triggered by a stressful semester. I just saw my prescribing therapist who offered to put me on a low dose of klonipin to deal with anxiety and bring me back from manic episodes, but I turned her down. It isn’t necessary at the moment. If things change, I’ll consider it, but I don’t want to go on any medication I don’t absolutely need. She also made me step on a scale, though I told her I’ve been maintaining my weight. She’s never done that before. So I got on the scale, demonstrating that I’m telling the truth. She never came right out and said that she was checking to see if I have an eating disorder, but I read between the lines. Kudos to her for trying to be thorough, but it’s a digestive, not eating, disorder and I’m taking care of myself. *sigh*
I’ve begun this summer session, and so far it isn’t bad. I’m getting cranky, though, and am trying to turn that around. I know that I’m in danger of sliding into depression in reaction to the manic, and I can see it happening. I’m feeling argumentative, too. Right now I’d contend that Manson was a misunderstood boyscout just to be contrary.
And no, I in no way believe that Manson was a boyscout. See what I mean?
It would seem that while I felt like I needed to say something, I had nothing really to say. With that realization, I guess I’ll sign off again. Until next time, adieu.