I annoyed the ever-living crap out of myself yesterday by biting off all of my nails. They weren’t even that long; I’ve found recently that any length whatsoever has started to freak me out and drive me around the bend. So I had to sit around with raggedy chewed-off nail bits for hours until I could get home and file them and make them less wretched… fun. I’d been doing so good lately at not biting them, so it’s frustrating that the compulsion to do it was just that overwhelming. The relief was semi-worth it though, sort of.
That’s something in general I really need to make sure the doctor listens to at my next appointment — there continues to be a noticeable number of really obnoxious tics and triggers that didn’t exist before I got on the Seroquel (or were easier to ignore). I can’t be in several yards of my father-in-law now because he triggers me ten ways to Sunday (proximity, blocking of exits, sounds, smells, etc). There are several objects that I *have* to arrange just so. I’m sure I’ve mentioned them all here before, but still, they haven’t lodged themselves so firmly into my mind that I remember to pass them on. And as we all know, we tend to think less of our various problems and side-effects than we should, so it would behoove me to make sure they are noted, recorded, stamped, sealed, the lot.
Past that, I’d class my current state as neutral. I don’t think it’s balanced, per se, but I’m feeling tolerable at this exact second. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to swing me all over, which encourages me to take up avoidant behavior. I’m not going to hide from the world, per se, but I am going to think carefully about whom I talk to about what. I’m going to cherish that extra bit of thinking room I have with the anxiety pushed back that little bit to make sure I don’t throw myself into deep water with my big fat opinionated mouth (which I love, by the by. I love that I have opinions).
Back to le grind!