I know I’m toxic on something.
May 3, 2018
I didn’t do the work today I had planned to do. Panic wells up inside of me. I can’t bring myself to do the work. I don’t know why. I don’t understand it. I feel like a child that has been left home alone by her parents. I don’t know how to leave the apartment. I’m running out of food again. I have no one to take me to the grocery store. Well, there’s Frank. But that whole situation is fraught with complexity.
My heart races. I sweat. I soak the bed with my sweat. The sheets turn yellow from the salt from me. My face itches, just my chin. I looked up side effects of the drugs. Itching is a side effect, but just on the chin? No. Ridiculous. I know I’m toxic on something. One of the things the psychiatrist upped me on. She has me on an incredibly high dose of lamotrigine — 600 mg, when I was taking 300 mg, for years and years. I’m trying to back down on that to see if that’s what’s causing the side effects. And I’m backing off on the Pristiq too, back to 100 mg from 150 mg. Although it could be one of the other drugs she has me on.
Janson was supposed to come over tonight. He said he’d be done with work at 3:00. I hadn’t heard from him so I texted him at 4:25, asked him where he was. He replied “A long way away”. Then, nothing. I’ve texted him a couple more times, I know he’s off work tomorrow. But nothing. I am confused. Has he been stringing me along? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he keep in touch? He’s been consistent. We don’t text a lot every day, but he always says hi. “Talk dirty to me. Make me hard,” he says. We haven’t met yet. It’s been well over a month. I felt I knew him. Maybe it’s all in my mind. Maybe all of it is in my mind. Maybe this life is all just a bad dream. God if only.
