I'm not really sure what I want to write about today. I'm feeling pretty down. I had all of the intentions of sleeping in today but was up at 6am (I actually woke up at 4am and laid in bed for two hours, trying to fall back asleep). I had an idea for a drawing so after breakfast I took my coffee downstairs with me to my studio and got to it. I spent 3 hours on it, between sketching and inking it. Then I took the dog on a short walk, showered, started laundry, and had lunch. And now, now I'm writing. I'm trying to keep myself busy so I don't have to deal with how I'm feeling.
I'm at the "go-to-sleep-and-not-wake-up-until-I-feel-better" stage. Quite honestly I'm surprised at what I've accomplished today because I truly have no motivation. I forced myself to go on my walk. I didn't want to go. But I figured getting out of the house would be good for me. It didn't help. Nothing helps.
Last week - Tuesday - I saw my psychiatrist. He upped my dose of Wellbutrin from 300mg to 450mg - the max dose. I am an idiot for how I tried to go off of the Pristiq, and he's keeping me on it for now. I see him again July 12th to see how the increased dose is working. So far no change in my mood. Except I feel a wee bit more cranky. Irritable. Maybe that's a coincidence. We'll see. If there's no real change in my mood in a month I'm going to talk to him about going off the Pristiq. Maybe with one less antidepressant I'll have a greater range of moods. I don't know. Maybe I'm talking out of my ass. I just don't know what to do. And I'm tired of feeling this way.
On the up side, I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow morning. I'm growing it out from a pixie cut (which is a long and arduous process), but it needs a trim desperately. I'm starting to get a mullet in back, not the look I'm going for. So at least that's something small I can look forward to.
I wish I could see Mike. It's only been two weeks since his surgery, so it'll be at least another 4-6 weeks before I can see him. I hate that. I wish it was sooner. But I have no choice but to wait. I need some support. I know he said if I needed anything to email him, but I don't want to be a needy burden. So I wait.
I'm reading a book on adult daughters of alcoholics. And I have an ACOA workbook to work through. Fun times. But the book on adult daughters, Perfect Daughters, is spot on. It's like the story of my life. Which is scary and sad and infuriating and comforting all at the same time. Maybe, just maybe I can find some closure to this chapter of my life. As my mom continues to drive me crazy. It's in her head now that I'm her best friend and therapist and I'm going to help her through all life's obstacles. Fighting with her husband? Call Cami. Worried about grandma? Call Cami. Have a bad dream? Call Cami. Every. Little. Thing. I AM NEITHER YOUR FRIEND NOR THERAPIST. I am basically your estranged daughter who truly wants nothing to do with you. And I feel horribly guilty for feeling this way. But I have no real relationship with her. Talking to her is torture - especially since 99 times out of 100 she's drunk when she calls me. But I feel bad and guilty because I'm not a "good daughter". I don't know what to do.
So that's where I'm at. Feeling like crap about everything and not having motivation to do anything. What a glorious place to be. I guess I could share the artwork I did this morning:
It's titled "Drowning". It's 8X10, watercolor and ink. Mostly ink. I like how it turned out.
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