I have spent seemingly every spare minute in the last few days either shopping for, planning for, measuring, or carrying things to the new apartment.  I’m exhausted, ya’ll.  I stayed home sick from work yesterday for the first time since this all started.  Tuesday night I had panic attacks, diarrhea and a terribly heavy period.  I got no sleep and opted out of work.  I’m glad I did too because I was barely mentally or emotionally functional when I got home late Tuesday evening, even before all the badness started.

I was thinking then that I needed to be careful still with my own self care.  I am feeling better.  I swear the two sunny warm days went a long way towards that.  And even with the work and money it’s taking, moving is helping too.  It gives me something to focus on and be excited about.  But still, I am a long way from being better.  In therapy on Monday when we started to touch on the deeper part of my problem with asking people for help I could sort of see the long painful future of digging this out and making myself whole.  I have definitely overcome the first high hurdle of asking for help, from my therapist, from my family, from my friends.  I think I am dealing well with either recovering from, or sidelining to deal with later, the break-up stuff.  I think I have made a mental space for myself that is safe and is about moving forward and healing and growing.  And I feel really, positive about all of  it.

However, I need to keep reminding myself that my emotional reserves are still at 0% and that some things are still taxing for me physically.  Just because I’m sitting in a sunny meadow and can see a clear path ahead doesn’t mean I am out of the woods.

Normally I’d take on moving as a herculean task that required my monitoring and management at all times and required as little help as possible, but this time I’ve asked for as much help as I can get.  For people to come pack for me, and help me do things.  I’m hoping to make it as stressless as moving can possibly be.  I’m trying to focus the worry away and keep my eye on the space I’m creating and how warm and safe it will be.  I’ve been successful in this thinking, but still I feel almost as if I need a little fairy on my shoulder reminding me to breathe and slow down and that it’s okay to take some time and cry or just rest.

Last night I started the St. John’s Wort in place of the SSRIs.  No comment on it yet except I seemed not to ave stomach upset or insomnia, so that’s a vast improvement.  We’ll see how it goes along.  I’m being better about my regular schedule for vitamins and fish oil too, so hopefully that combination will prove to be helpful.

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