Well, the good news is that I did succeed in going out last night. The family and I went to a friend’s Anzac Day barbecue, where the host was the only person we knew. We had a nice time chatting, the kidlette was well-behaved, and we enjoyed a free meal. I semi-sucked in conversation, insomuch that I forgot to ask questions of people talking to me and just went on about myself… whups. Better luck next time on that count!
And at least, I was able to look with bemusement at the weirdness that I can have such severe anxiety, and pretty much no social anxiety whatsoever. Sure, anxiety was playing havoc with my system before we got there, but once we arrived, I was calm and collected. Well, and knitting; I have no qualms bringing things to keep my hands occupied at need… comfort objects, I guess one would call them. Funny how I deem it okay for me, but not for my kid, heh.
Anyways, the end result was what I figured it would be — I feel beyond spoonless today. I even tried to stay curled up in bed trying to sleep in in spite of the wretched dream I was having (and it was pretty freaking terrible as far as dreams go). I’d been fighting the urge to sleep in all week until I gave into it yesterday morning, and I can tell that I still could use the extra. Insomnia has been nipping at my heels in spite of the knock-out drop affect Seroquel has. I think I’m going to try to take my meds a bit earlier and crawl into bed a bit earlier, but I still suspect that it’ll work out worse rather than better.
I hope that tomorrow the spoons regenerate, just a little bit. I want to feel human enough to ‘risk’ going into work and leaving the house! For now, trying to think wakeful thoughts.