One down. One to go.

I survived Turkey Day. I don’t really remember much of it not because I was drinking but because I was anxious. Anxiety wrecks everything. I don’t know why I was having a bout of social anxiety. I knew everyone there very well. They were all family. I still had to try pretty hard to be marginally social. I think I did ok. I don’t remember. That’s one of a myriad of problems I have. When I am depressed or anxious I don’t remember things. Entire days pass and I don’t remember them. I have to text myself reminders because it seems like I live a day, fall asleep and wake up and don’t remember anything. I’ve cut down on sleep meds so I don’t think they are the culprit. I think it is just the way I am wired. So, I guess you could say I loved Thanksgiving Day because nobody knows any different. Next up is Christmas. I dread Christmas.

I don’t know why I hate Christmas so much. I always have. Again I think it is a crowd thing except now you have to do gifts which is even more stressful. I hate performance stress. What am I going to get them? Are they going to like it? Is it enough? For many years that part or the holiday was missing from my life. It felt good. For years, when my husband was alive, we had stress free Christmas Days. It was nice. Our gift to our friends was food and hospitality. We used to host the Misfits Christmas at our hours. I would roast a prime rib and put together all the fixings and all our friends that didn’t have anywhere to go came to my house and we had a giant party. It was great; lots of laughs and lots of booze. Now I have a family again.

Mike has a slew of kids. Three of his daughters live in the immediate area and we have my Mom and Dad down here at this time of the year now so we do the family thing. I’ll probably try to cook a rib roast (Mike takes over. I should be grateful that he loves to cook.) And we’ll do presents. That’s where the stress comes in. Ugh! That pressure to perform. I should really not give two shits what they think. They should be happy with anything that I can afford to purchase them. I could really fuck them up and make homemade gifts this year; bath salts and body lotion for everyone, maybe some candles. They might really like that. I don’t know. I think a small gift to open and a gift card will suffice. I wouldn’t be so freaked out by this if my mood were better.

The new/old antidepressant is starting to work, but the dosage isn’t high enough. I go back to Dr. V on the 9^th for an adjustment. He just has to bring me up to 40 mg. I seriously need it and I don’t want to end up in the hospital on New Years again like last year. That was a trip. Dr. V was on vacation and the blow hard that was my doctor threatened to get a court order to lock me up. I had no choice but to voluntarily stay and make the best of it. I was there for six days. I read 7 books. I was in with the really mental people. I was on suicide watch which means they check on you every 10 minutes. That means that every 10 minutes all night long someone opens your door and shines a light in your face. Tell me that won’t make you fucking nuts. I finally started leaving my door open so that there was nothing to creak or worse yet, slam. Nothing like being suicidally depressed and sleep deprived. It makes for some fun group therapy conversations. What they did do was immediately max out my meds and within a couple of days I felt fine. They still wouldn’t let me out. They would not let me out until I was seen by my own doctor. He came in on his day off to discharge me. It was as simple as that but it scared me. I don’t want to ever go back there again. So, I won’t. This year I’ll keep it together somehow. I’ll talk about it before it gets critical and I will try to lighten up on myself about Christmas. After all, I can only give it my best.