Just a bad day.
Had a really bad day today. It started with an hour of trying to have a doctor take my friggin blood to check that all the freakin meds in my system and to see how fucked my thyroid has gotten in the last three months. All signs point to pretty fucked. We’ll see what the results turn out.
I got to work an hour late to emails from our newest client, pissed that I’d written something about our product on their Facebook page. Fine, I apologized and removed it, thinking that was that. No, the manager of our partner company proceed to ream me out and forward the email the client sent him in which she called my message “unclassy” and he said he was “very unhappy”. You’d think they’d never made a mistake before. Luckily, my boss was awesome about it, although probably because I started tearing up when I told him what happened. He made a joke, and as he walked away, he mimed “go for a smoke” even though he always tells me not to smoke. That was nice. Later, after we did a really great presentation and I was still pretty sullen, he asked if it was still bothering me. When I said yes, he tried his best to make me realize it was okay and mistakes were bound to happen. That was good.
The rest of the day was pretty much me staring at the computer screen, trying not to cry and not wanting to talk to anyone. I got to leave early to see Dr. A, which was a freakin treat. I told him how I’d been feeling, explained the bad day, and we talked about my meds. Then, to make the day even worse, he said, there’s one more thing we need to discuss, and looked right at my expanding waistline. Lovely. I know he knew already that I was getting pissed off with the weight, but it just irked me the way he brought it up. Anyway, it seems there might be some other meds I can take other than Seroquel that won’t make me gain weight, provided the weight gain isn’t due to my fucked up thyroid. Again, we’ll see what happens with the blood results. Can’t change anything until we get those freakin results back.
I got home and crashed on the couch, but every time I go out for a smoke, I stare at the sky and relive those emails. I’ve been trying to remind myself that it’s not the end of the world. We’re not curing cancer. I’ve made mistakes before and I’ve lived through them, so I can do it again. Dr. A thinks the reason I’m having such a hard time letting go of this one is that I was already depressed before it happened so I’m extra sensitive. I think I’m always extra sensitive, but this time I actually allowed myself to cry.
I don’t know what has to happen to bring myself out of this depression. I had a couple of manic days last week, which was a complete surprise — even Dr. A raised an eyebrow when I mentioned it. At first it was nice, but then I remembered how shitty the crash is afterwards. The cycles are starting again, and I’m scared.