Last night, after marathon watching Evangelion and drinking perhaps less than I usually do, I fucking fell out of my bed when putting down the laptop.
It was crazy, like I just slid right out. I was so tired it happened before I even realized it--I definitely tried to stop it but I was too sluggish. I was kind of laughing at myself and trying not to laugh harder when I fell asleep.
Woke up somewhere in the morning and found a nasty scratch on my finger along with what feels like a bruise--then wiped some skin off my head. Also have a nice little dark bruise on my other hand. Wondering if more bruises will be revealed once I take off my clothes for a shower.
It's sort of like "... Well in a way this is funny" but also "that was totally fucking pathetic and indicative that drinking every single night is fucking ridiculous."
A text from my dad briefly woke me up; it really says something when I heard the alert I wished it was my psychiatrist giving me an appointment and was very disappointed it was my dad.
"We haven't talked in over a month" etc etc "hope things are going well" etc.
Problem is--yeah my last-last post. My dad is being a huge dickbag and not even realizing it. Why would I want to talk to him?
"Things would be going better if I could actually talk to a fucking psychiatrist or therapist when right now I have to settle for my mentally ill friends and family instead. I am drinking nightly. Hope your stupid girlfriend gets out of house arrest soon so she can be a real bitch to me irl like I'm sure she wants to be!"
Yeah right. I'm not picking a fight with that bull (shit).
LUCKILY, I talked to my mom, and she says she can pay pretty much the same amount of I switch insurance but I can actually get psychological help coverage--therapist, meds, psychiatrist. I may have to switch psychiatrists.
SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. I love my psychiatrist and my therapist I haven't seen in hm what feels like half a year but is probably a quarter of a year, but no--this has been the entire problem. Money. It's like she just gave me a "get out of mental hell FREE" card but I can't use it until she does the work to do it (I offered up my help and she didn't sound confident that I could--I could probably do some paperwork, really...)
And then of course some worries settle in.
My current psychiatrist is great because he thinks I'm in a curable position; what if I get someone who contradicts his own opinion?
Do I go somewhere else?
His opinion was "you don't have to be on pills your whole life." I don't want someone who will tell me my pill-taking with be indefininate.
BUT WAS HE WRONG?!?!?!?
He DID put me on an addictive pill that I didn't know was addictive. I didn't KNOW they could be addictive.
I'm just so worried about finding someone who gives a shit, knows what they're talking about, and can help me with my meds, AND ALSO someone who is understanding and helpful to talk to on the talk therapy side of it all.
Cuz god knows I need it so bad right now. I'm craving it.
The talk therapy, I mean.Will they help me with drinking or can I get off the bottle before this whole drinking thing worsens? Can it get worse in a month or two?
I've been thinking of what I really want to do to try and get over some feelings I've been having.
I've heard that memorizing things helps distract your mind. Instead of getting into negative thinking, you get into the habit everyday of memorizing something, so your mind goes to THAT instead of shitty negative self talk.
I have plans: some poems in mind and what I need to actually DO as an artist, which is memorize the sketchable parts of the human body (anatomy and where it is mainly--and what it looks like).
Maybe I'll make flashcards for the anatomy stuff. That actually sounds fun.
Picture with an arrow pointing so I can say what muscle or tendon it is--so I'll actually have to competently draw what it is as well as know what it's called.Then for poems, just recitation every day. I've got in mind just to tackle on huge poem first, my favorite, the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.
Once I have it down--then, the Jabberwocky.
Once that's down--selected poems of Emily Dickinson.
Once that's down--and so it goes. I'd have to say it outloud cuz that's poetry. OOH I should memorize The Revolution Will Not Be Televised and other Gil Scot Heron ones, that'd be bitching. And Asylum.... yeah I have ideas.
Also when I get deep into this--I wanna learn the Nell language plus start just learning bits and pieces of various languages.
See? It would have its uses. I'd feel smart, I think it'd be really good for my brain after being a fucking alchy for way too long (I'm forgetting thins or getting things wrong I wouldn't normally), it'd make me more confident in terms of how much vocabulary I'd be learning.
Plus it's also about commitment I can really do. I want to do so much more but I have to feel better before I do it.
Sigh. So we'll see how I'm doing tomorrow... or the next day, or the next day. I'll definitely be relieved once I'm scoping out psychiatrists and therapists on a new insurance plan, though, and hope that doesn't have too many devastating hiccups along the way.
Boy that would sound fucking pathetic if you weren't in my body right now or didn't have sympathy/empathy but SERIOUSLY.
Things are not quite coming up daisies but I am happy with this development for the day.
The community is nothing but validating when it comes to your identity... which is what feels so good. I mean, I make mistakes and people get offended--and it can be about anything.