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It is hard to feel out of control.
This whole month has been break down central. I'm riding this rollercoaster with no safety net and I'm barely hanging onto the ride. Mom was talking to C and apparently "...she saw this coming 4 months ago." I wish she told me, I could have done something more. Except now that I say that, I know there really isn't anything I could have done more.
So I had my first psychiatrist appointment the other day. I came home with a possible new diagnoses, DBT booklet/diary cards, and a higher dosage of anti-psychotics. It is a good step but it still lies on me to do the grunt work. That is the worst part about mental health, even though you're so tired you still have to fight every day. Fight to breathe. Fight to smile. Fight to be alive.
Not to mention, my fathers one year is coming up on the 23rd. I can't believe it has only been a year since he died in this house. It does not feel like a year- it feels like 4.
Just another thing added onto a fractured woman.