i'm not even unhappy about it.
the physical symptoms change faster than i can track them for a new dr. i know i will find a new primary and show up with this list of complaints and sound like a psycho with my mental health history.
the nausea leaves me huddled over a trashcan all day at work. nothing ever comes up. i just sit there in misery. every breath of air or swallow of spit feels as if it might be the one to unleash the torrent of regurgitation.
I am trying to keep up with my meds despite it. my mood is not bad so i'll try to keep it there. actually missing meds during a nausea bout is what landed me in the daycare for crazies anyway.
every pain brings the initial reaction of "oh sh*t what the hell is wrong." then i settle down and wonder if it will kill me and how long it will take.
oddly enough i have been rather daydreaming of the battle that will might ensue of my right as a person with a mental health diagnosis to refuse to receive "life saving" medical treatment to prolong my body based on the idea that dr's can not improve my quality of life (mentally) enough to warrant putting me thru such physical and added emotional trauma.
i have also been daydreaming about the argument that will ensue as my family tries to use my mental health history/diagnosis to have my do no resuscitate and other medical directives overturned arguing that i am passively suicidal and therefore not able to make a decision such as this.
atleast my life will have meaning.
yes someone will comment and say the disease is doing this to my brain. and maybe. but once past the biological portions of the illness (i believe they have actually ruled out the bipolar while i was hospitalized and simply diagnosed me borderline but i'm not sure) the personality disorder IS me.
it's not banjk's beautiful white tiger he can dance with and train. it's more like a trail of leeches holding hands wound around my spine and brain.
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