I am still here, re-reading all your comments.
I made a mood chart based entirely on blog posts and Facebook posts; it stretches back a couple years and it looks like an EKG.
Sean got an old Nintendo and we are going to play Kid Icarus every night. It will be our coping strategy. And yeah, Sean is having his own thing with anxiety, and is being treated and all that, so we are just kind of a three-legged-race of a person, kind of dragging each other through the days a little bit at a time. It turns out the 12th anniversary is the Matching Nervous Breakdown anniversary!
Right now I am so grateful for the internet. Because otherwise I am a complete recluse, or would like to be, and keeping these connections from being completely severed in the down times is such a help. Plus, you know, I am just WILDLY entertaining during the up times. Until suddenly the ride goes too fast and, you know, yells at its kids and loses all sense of personal boundaries and drinks too much just to calm down enough to fall asleep.
It is hard to admit that the up times are not all fun. They come with such a seductive blast of happy brain chemicals that it is easy to discount the collateral damage.
I still feel like I'm making all this up, that if I weren't so, I don't know, needy and pathetic and stupid and irritable and god, just such a fucking drag, if I could just keep it to myself a little bit better, the world could just go on turning.
Tomorrow's appointment can't come fast enough. I made Sean promise that when the doctor tells me I'm full of shit or gives me a diagnosis I don't think is the right one, that he will come in, credentials blazing, and tell them that yes I really DO suck as much as I say I do, or at least help me find someone else.