I bottomed out big time. Last year, I went to the doctor because my anti-depressant had lost effectiveness (I'd been on the same medication since I was 19, and at the same dose since I was 22, so that wasn't a huge shocker). What followed was months of misery as we discovered that Wellbutrin at high doses turns me into The Incredible Hulk...
I've been getting extremely panicky when stressed or confused, and it had gotten to the point where I was scared to look at my work emails or answer the phone. I let a customer actually *bully* me into almost crying. I had requested transfer to several departments where my workload would be less stress-inducing, but my manager blocked me at all turns because he said I would get bored and was overqualified for the positions anyway.
So I somehow managed to find a new job and not bomb the interviews. I now work across the street from my old job doing the same basic job--air exports--but there is much less stress, I work 40-45 hours a week instead of the 50-65 I was working before, and I'm getting paid almost $7/hr more.
But I'm still panicky at the STUPIDEST things. And my meds aren't working. So I went through the list of psychiatrists on my insurance's website and cold-called a bunch of them and then made an appointment with the only one who bothered to call me back. I want a specialist to handle any medication tinkering that needs to be done. I want my semblance of a life back.
Also working on getting my foster care verification from The Bair Foundation, a private Christian agency. The training was a lot better this time around, and we did it all in two nights and one full Saturday instead of dragging it out for six weeks...during Rodeo.
Then I get home, and the mail lady brings me a package from CPS...it was my former caseworker returning my family portfolio. I need to re-do it, but it was good to have it back. I at least like how the binder looks.
And then I log onto Facebook, and Alicia is talking about going back to Uganda in February...hmmm....
