Still Feeling Good! (triggers inside)
I'm still feeling good! I'm glad. I had kinda a rough morning this morning, getting out of bed and out of the house was hard, but once I pushed through it was good. I saw my therapist today and she was glad I was writing about the harder stuff instead of just light fluffy stuff. I'm just glad to still be doing good after this many days and not hypomanic. I am pretty tired, so we will see how much I can type before I fall over asleep. I did take my pills, it's after 9:30, so I've taken them. I forgot to take them the other morning, and so my therapist and I talked about setting a routine for the mornings so I can remember to take them. She suggested using my backpack as a trigger object, something I look at all the time to remember to take them. I might start putting my backpack on the table or something weird like that to remember to take them, and once I do take them I can put the backpack back where it belongs, on the side of the couch. I notice when things are out of place, and the backpack does not belong on the table, so I'm pretty sure I would notice that.
Other than that, we talked in therapy about what I wrote yesterday, about my stepdad and dad. My dad was a mailman for most of his life, and wore out all the cartilage in his shoulders carrying the bag. It got to the point where every time he moved his arms at all it would grind the nerves in his shoulders between bones. He was in so much pain that he couldn't work anymore, and in 25 years of working for the post office he had never done so much as take a sick day, so it was big for him to finally give in and go on disability. They tried everything for the pain, from heat to electro-shock pads. Nothing worked. Finally, the only thing they were left with was to cut the nerves to his arms, which would leave both his arms useless. He was a proud man, but suffered from severe depression, and eventually the thought of him becoming fully disabled was too much for him and he killed himself. I was thinking that he wouldn't have had to work so hard if my stepdad had given him money, but he was proud and wouldn't want a handout. Not only that, but as my therapist pointed out, it wasn't my stepdad's job to take care of us... we were not his children, we were the responsibility of my mom and dad to take care of. So that leaves my stepdad out of the picture.
My stepdad did choose to help us after my dad passed, we moved in with him and he took us in as his own, which he didn't need to do. As far as I know, it was never a question. We just started moving over there the night my dad died. There was no way we could have slept in the house after my dad died in it. Just too many sad memories after that. -trigger- Plus, it was just horrible... my uncle had to clean up the mess when my dad shot himself in the head, so you can imagine it wasn't a pretty mess. I remember when he was flushing the remains down the toilet, just how much loss I felt, it kinda cemented even more that my dad was gone for good. I didn't want to type that out, but I had to because I'm supposed to talk about things that might trigger me, and that memory is a trigger to be sure.
I'm not feeling so great anymore, and it's time to go to bed. I'm tired. I did good on my calories today, was in my range on everything except sodium as normal. I had a chicken thigh and peaches for breakfast, Subway for lunch, and regular dinner. Mood for most of the day was good (until I started typing all those depressing memories about my dad) so I'm going to leave it as good for now and see what happens tomorrow.
Other than that, we talked in therapy about what I wrote yesterday, about my stepdad and dad. My dad was a mailman for most of his life, and wore out all the cartilage in his shoulders carrying the bag. It got to the point where every time he moved his arms at all it would grind the nerves in his shoulders between bones. He was in so much pain that he couldn't work anymore, and in 25 years of working for the post office he had never done so much as take a sick day, so it was big for him to finally give in and go on disability. They tried everything for the pain, from heat to electro-shock pads. Nothing worked. Finally, the only thing they were left with was to cut the nerves to his arms, which would leave both his arms useless. He was a proud man, but suffered from severe depression, and eventually the thought of him becoming fully disabled was too much for him and he killed himself. I was thinking that he wouldn't have had to work so hard if my stepdad had given him money, but he was proud and wouldn't want a handout. Not only that, but as my therapist pointed out, it wasn't my stepdad's job to take care of us... we were not his children, we were the responsibility of my mom and dad to take care of. So that leaves my stepdad out of the picture.
My stepdad did choose to help us after my dad passed, we moved in with him and he took us in as his own, which he didn't need to do. As far as I know, it was never a question. We just started moving over there the night my dad died. There was no way we could have slept in the house after my dad died in it. Just too many sad memories after that. -trigger- Plus, it was just horrible... my uncle had to clean up the mess when my dad shot himself in the head, so you can imagine it wasn't a pretty mess. I remember when he was flushing the remains down the toilet, just how much loss I felt, it kinda cemented even more that my dad was gone for good. I didn't want to type that out, but I had to because I'm supposed to talk about things that might trigger me, and that memory is a trigger to be sure.
I'm not feeling so great anymore, and it's time to go to bed. I'm tired. I did good on my calories today, was in my range on everything except sodium as normal. I had a chicken thigh and peaches for breakfast, Subway for lunch, and regular dinner. Mood for most of the day was good (until I started typing all those depressing memories about my dad) so I'm going to leave it as good for now and see what happens tomorrow.
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