I am so sleepy tonight after having spent Thanksgiving under the influence of at least a milligram of Xanax. I had a lovely panic attack in the car the moment Nick and I pulled up to his aunt’s house, where everyone else was waiting.
It was more like an outburst because I was as frustrated and irritable as one could feel in such an acute state. I must have been triggered as soon as we started to head over there because when all I had asked of Nick was to not use the radio so I could read some of my book on the way, the non-compliance set me off and my mood took a scary nosedive.
Nothing Nick was responding with made me anything but scared and nervous; he couldn’t possibly know what was happening, what I was going through, and that made me mad. I’m sure in reality he had an idea, as being with a woman for the long-term is nothing new to him, but this is still my recovery, and recovery is not always pretty.
I finally allowed myself to cry as we sat there in his car with the engine off. I wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment . . .
Bipolar in Order: Advocating for the Mentally Ill 