----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- shitstorm made the mistake of having coffee, which I need to stop doing. I just can't handle the caffeine anymore. It instantly makes me feel unwell both mentally and physically. It's a habit, more than anything, and it's just another substance I got addicted to years ago that I don't want to be doing but I do anyway. My husband had his tri-monthly shrink appointment today. I am so not used to having time alone, I don't know what to do with myself. I have to go out and mow the back yard later (once it gets in the shade) but for right now I just feel scattered and lost. I should be doing art or something creative, I know it always makes me feel better. I have had a huge block in doing creative projects for a very long time now. I don't know what happened to the me that used to do something creative every day, and didn't have enough time in a day to get the projects done that I was working on. I have some ideas for projects I want to do, but I'm just not doing them. I can't get up the desire to do anything. Literally anything. I have to force myself to just get out of bed anymore. My husband still has not unpacked his music stuff and he never does anything. I am beginning to wonder if he is just the sort of "artist" that needs drugs to be creative, or if he has some brain damage from his head injury he got in Denver when he was mugged. He it totally apathetic about everything all the time. He can literally sit or lay down all day everyday. He can literally just sit and stare at nothing for hours. I asked him to see a therapist, and he refuses. Not like we could find one in this town anyway. But living with his mental illness is really affecting me and it gets more difficult all the time. He is not addressing the issue and usually I try to just let him work on this himself, but some days I get so stressed and feel like he isn't working on anything internally, and he isn't doing anything creative or physical in any way that I flip out a little and maybe for a day or two he'll make a small small effort but within a week it's back to staring at the walls and doing nothing and saying even less. He helps out some with chores. Now that I told him he has to help me or he has to move out. I am sick of feeling like I have all the responsibility of being in a relationship with none of the benefits. But I still feel overwhelmed all the time being in charge of fucking everything, from balancing the bank account, to buying the groceries to doing the laundry to having to do all the lawn care. If I don't do it, or ask him to help me, it does not happen. And I am worried. Compared to how he used to be, it's like his personality has been almost totally erased. Or he is a pod person. I wonder if it's the big pharma. He is still over medicated (in my opinion) and his shrink just added Ambien to the cocktail, which has just made his flat affect, apathy, and lack of motivation or joy so much worse. I really wonder if he really ever was schizophrenic, or if he was just having meth psychosis. He wants to be on the meds, so there's nothing I can do. He was without them for a very long time before and he never had a psychotic break like he did when he was on meth. I really wonder how many people are being mis-diagnosed and over-medicated just because it's easy for the doctors. I am thankful he's not hearing voices anymore (he says he doesn't). And that he's not yelling at them, or doing crazy shit like cutting the cable lines into the because he thinks the government is spying on him through them. I'm thankful he sleeps, and eats. And doesn't pin me to a chair yelling at me for 6 hours straight. But living with him is like living with a black hole of despair that sucks all joy and inspiration and ambition into it, day in and day out. I just wish there could be some middle ground between total fucking psycho and total zombie. I got a check from a clinic I went to awhile back. A few years ago? Not sure. Well they paid me back for a shrink visit I had. I went in to try to get a second opinion on my diagnosis and the doctor made me cry. The first words he said to me were "What are you doing here, what do you want?" He said I wasn't bipolar because I had not been on medication for five years and I hadn't been hospitalized, either. That of course is ridiculous, and I was surprised and happy to get my $94 back. I didn't mean to write any of this. I blame it all on the coffee. 2:47 PM - Monday, Jun. 12, 2023 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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