Anyway...at my job we moved our office to another room down the hall last week, and I got a new boss. So that uprooted me too.
And, of course, I'm still supposedly moving. I really am extremely anxious and quite depressed right now because of this whole situation. I'm not sure Wellbutrin is working for me anymore. My ARNP (psych nurse who prescribes meds) put me on Lamictal, and I haven't taken it yet, because I don't really want to add yet another drug with possible side effects to my repertoire of meds that rule my life.
I am scared. Moving scares me, mostly because I don't think I can possibly handle this on my own. I did get a little help. My case manager came over and while she was here, she helped me sort through a container of clothes. My therapist, who I've known for three - four years actually came into my apartment for the first time, too, and she brought me boxes and put my books into them. But there is still a lot to do. My mom's idea of helping is telling me to through all my belongings in the garbage, which I will not do. Yes, I am a bit of a pack rat. But no, I am not a hoarder, and there are no dead animals or unopened boxes or clothes I've never worn here. There a lot of clothes, mostly because I stopped fitting into everything due to the weight gain caused by the meds.
I would like to sell some of my stuff, but because the landlord, which is a community mental health agency, has not bothered to tell me the date when I am moving, I do not know that I will have a chance to do that this weekend.
I called, repeatedly, to get an answer about when I'm moving. They first told us back last fall that we'd be moving by December. Then they stopped doing the construction on the building, and we figured there was no way we would be moving soon, so nobody packed anything. Now they are apparently nearly finished with the construction work, and I couldn't get the woman I deal with at that agency to tell me when I will be moving. After several phone calls, the other day she told me it would be at the end of this month. Which is why I am freaking out. Because the agency that owns my home is not the same agency that I go to for treatment, there is no communication, and I never hear anything from the landlord.
I also am in the middle of trying to change my college major.
Overall, I am in the middle of nothing but changes and stress. I guess that's why I changed the look of the blog. It seems like as good a time as any. Everything about my life has been uprooted. I am very lost. I am very scared. I know this will sound stupid to some people, but managing my life requires a level of routine. I have to know that I have some stability to count on or I get anxious and freaked out and physically sick and have psychotic symptoms and suicidal depression. I'm not suicidal right now. But I'm not exactly doing great either.
I had dinner with my mother the other night after she gave up trying to convince me to throw my belongings in the trash and I gave up on hoping she was going to help me. She said I seem depressed. She also said she thinks she gained a lot of weight on Lamictal and maybe I shouldn't take it. So now I'm conflicted about that too. It's not really a good time for me to be messing with my medications. I need that routine the most. It is the only thing that keeps my life manageable besides sheer will power.
I often think about how far I've come to get where I am. That may sound arrogant, and I don't mean for it to sound that way. It has taken me a lot of help to get this far. And while I'm very grateful that I'm now able to keep a roof over my head, the memories of all the times I had to move while I was psychotic, and while I had no place to really go to, well, those memories are haunting me night and day right now. I'm afraid I won't have the packing and the cleaning done in time to move, and they'll evict me. I'm afraid I'm going to end up with nowhere to go again. I think the memory of this unrest is what is making me anxious and depressed. It's been four years I've lived in this little apartment, and it's been the only period that long where I've lived in one place as an adult. And now, I am leaving it. I'm not going far, but everything is getting piled into boxes, and I feel like I am lost without a compass right now.
I don't know how I'm going to get through this time. Today, I didn't make it to my class. And I dropped the other class I was going to start today, because I want to change my major. Since I'm only in one class, there is no reason why I shouldn't have gotten there today, but my alarm had a problem, and I never woke up, until it was too late. I did go to work, of course, because I can't afford to lose my job on top of everything else. I'm glad I am able to keep up with my job despite feeling really depressed.
I know - because everything always does - that this, too, shall pass. But it won't be soon enough. I am very focused at this time on keeping myself out of the hospital. I can't afford to lose my job or drop out of school, and I can't afford to lose all my belongings to someone throwing them in the trash, as did happen to me years ago when I was in hospitals. I must move forward and manage this disaster. Somehow, I will find the power within myself to do that.