I feel like I’m headed toward a breakdown. Like a runner who’s running a bit too fast and starting to lose traction but can’t slow down soon enough. This is the exact scenario I work so hard to avoid, and yet – here I am.
Starting to flail my arms and trying to maintain my balance, but who am I kidding? We all know I’m about to fall. And I’m going to smack the ground. Hard.
I could write about how hard it is as a mom with bipolar disorder. I could write about how my husband tries to support me but we’re having marital problems. I could write about how I’m terrified that my oldest son will develop bipolar disorder and my worst fear is that one day he will commit suicide.
I know my coping skills. I am to:
– take walks
– utilize my support system
– stick to a routine of regular sleep
– eat healthy
– SEE MY THERAPIST.
I haven’t seen her since…October? That is when I realized that my insurance isn’t paying for my visits (and won’t until February). This is what stirred up problems for me last time, too – I wasn’t seeing a psych nor a therapist for months leading up to my breakdown.
Tomorrow I’ll call the office. I’ll make an appointment. I’ll find a way to pay for it later. I have to see someone.