I guess I’m a little slow on the update, but I think mowing season is over.

It’s snowing this evening and it’s mostly sticking. When I checked the mail, I tracked in some wet footprints. The furnace keeps kicking on. My bones, muscles, and body aches. The upper back and front are exceedingly tight.

Yep.
All the earmarks are there.

It’s not mowing season. That’s done.

So, this is the… third (?) winter in this house, out of Florida, with Jason. But this year, there isn’t a cat.

I’ve… I’ve been a bit apprehensive today.
It wasn’t the lung biopsy, the continue ache from the seroma, or even the one-two-punch of a viral and bacterial infection in my body.

Rather, It’s good ol’ Dr. S. I had a telehealth appointment with her today. It’s the first one in a couple of months and the first appointment with a licensed mental health professional for about a month now.

And… um…. yeah. It didn’t go well. I tried to explain everything I had going on physically from the virus, to the biopsy, and even the developing arthritis on my toes. I guess I was just trying to catch her up on everything and….

Dr. S. has all but demanded that I appear in her office next Wednesday for an in-person appointment. She feels that I’m compromised and wants me to go into an in-patient place as soon as possible.

But, of course, that means another hospital psyche ward as my insurance won’t cover anything else.

I’m certainly not thrilled about the prospect. I know that I’ve been torn down physically lately. I feel like I have because of the thyroid imbalance, worry about cancer, and I’ve started to resume some bad habits like getting up in the middle of the night again.

I’ve worked through all of that before. I’m trying to pull myself together again to avoid falling apart. I’m trying.

Apparently, as what most of my ‘mental health team’ believe, I’m not trying hard enough. I’m ‘compromised.’

I’m sure I am compromised. I know without a doubt that I am. Much like the knight from Monty Python who lost his arm… I think I’m getting better. Maybe.

I’m fearful that I’ll fall into dark places but avoided it today, somehow. I’m afraid of the anxiety, desperation, and dark feelings from months before. But it didn’t really hit me yesterday or the day before.

It did today… somewhat… after speaking to Dr. S for a mere 15 minutes. Her instance and all but demand to see me next week is really very daunting. It causes a lot of self-doubt as, it was programmed into me from the House, that I can’t trust myself. If I did, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

I would be, somehow, better, stronger, and more normal.

Normal isn’t comfortable. I think that’s part of what the goal is for mental altering drugs like Prozac. It’s meant to make or force people to feel comfortable when life isn’t comfortable.

I’ve considered canceling the appointment or rescheduling. I don’t want to feel as if I need to spend the holidays in a psyche ward.

That lingering doubt… should I? Would it help? Can I really not handle this myself? Would this reduce the worry and burden of those I care for…. ? Who care for me…? Why would Dr. S be so demanding so quickly if I wasn’t danger…. ?

I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it but I don’t want to.

It’s just too much and I don’t want to be in a bad place.

If this is my reality, I need to be accountable for it. Even if it is a bad place… right?