I am thinking of socks as a metaphor right now as I sit on a pile of literal socks that I am meant to be sorting. There are all kinds of things I am supposed to be doing. All the musts and the shoulds sitting around out there making me feel guilty. I did some of some things. Including matching socks.
Like the metaphor of nothing ever coming out even, right? You still have a bunch of socks left over. Or the ones that don't quite work together. They are the same brand and style, but one of them is mysteriously much dirtier. Or has a slightly more stretched-out.
And NOTHING is coming out just right. And things are uneven. And I'm stressing over things as minor as socks thinking that if I can't even manage that, how am I supposed to handle things that actually DO matter?
I will be seeing Psych NP tomorrow. And asking her for therapist recommendations. I didn't like the one person I saw there who was a psychiatrist. That was before I knew that Psych NP could diagnose bipolar as well as prescribe medication. I don't remember that woman's name though. She was probably OK.
I really just need a person I can get along with who can remind me about all the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy things that I already know. Or maybe some other kind of therapy is the best. I don't know. I will ask Psych NP.
Maybe we should all just go barefoot. Year round.
300 mg lamotrigine
0 mg vraylar (stopped taking 4.5mg... four days ago?)
Quaker, teacher, parent,