Yesterday was my last appointment with my beloved. You know, my psychiatrist. I found out that he’s not retiring, but just closing his outpatient practice. Western Psychiatric Hospital with UPMC in Pittsburgh is giving him a 13-bed unit to oversee. Jokingly, I said, “so if I want to visit…” to which he replied, “well, it’s a schizophrenic unit.” I could probably go without sleep for awhile and muster up some schizoid features with a bit of mania. (People who endure the sufferings of Bipolar Disorder can and usually will become manic if they don’t sleep properly.) I told him I did get an appointment with a new doctor. He groaned when I told him who it was and he immediately wrote down someone he thinks is a good doctor. Then he recorded “key dates” for the new doc to request the records of. I looked at the dates later at lunch with hubsy and I said, “Huh, all the times I went nuts.” I waited until I got to the elevator to cry where hubs started to make fun of me, so I composed myself and started the descent out of Bellefield Towers for the last time. I spent 7 years of blood, sweat and tears with my beloved.
The rest of the day was a sad one for me. I just wasn’t feeling it. I was afraid that was the beginning of a depressive episode. I’ve been lucky. My beloved was very good at nipping those in the bud. Can I say nipping those in the butt? I like that better. It was the mania we had a hard time holding down. I have to say I’m scared that my moods with shift. It’s hard to get into a new psychiatrist, especially where I live since there aren’t that many. We did a “best psychiatrists in Pittsburgh” search to find my beloved. And, we drove about an hour (traffic) through tunnels and over bridges to see him every so many weeks to so many months.
I haven’t been motivated enough to do pretty much anything. The cat let me know the litterbox cleaning was overdue when I found cat poop on the floor. Cool. Love it. I’m going to try and motivate myself to get my shit together today.