Okay, y’all, important safety tip. If the psychiatrist gives you a prescription for ant-depressants, you don’t let them write it with ZERO REFILLS. And certainly take some care to ensure you don’t run out of a Friday night so you have to wait FOUR DAYS for your pharmacist to get said psychiatrist’s approval.
I’m just sayin’. Seriously, I could actually hear my eyeballs moving. Do you know just how weird that is?!?
And certainly don’t make me wait two weeks to see my new therapist one-on-one. Insurance won’t cover another week of IOP? Put it on my tab, that’s what HSA is for.
Yeah. Not a good day. Especially when I have to be in the same room with my d-bag Director twice in one afternoon.
I came home tonight, was ready to go right to the garage. My new steady friend, the big thick stereo speaker cable, was awaiting my gentle caress with a confidently executed slipknot, tied to the beam, that’s okay will only need the chair for a moment before I wait to die. Still a nice fantasy, even if I can’t do it tonight.
Or, I could just cut to the chase and readmit myself to the hospital. If it weren’t for that one-hour-a-day visitors rule, I might already be back. Maybe they’ll let me keep my iPhone next time. Maybe? No? Rats. It’s not for me, to stay alive, it’s for the girl who’s the love of my life, crayon hearts that read, “Don’t throw it away”. Don’t want my sweet girl to ask, “Why did Daddy have to die?”