Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

It's taken me a while to sit down to write this, the previous drama happened on the Friday afternoon before my kids were off school for a week.  It was... busy. After my last post, which was partly to share and partly because if I don't record details in the moment they get lost forever to the ether in my brain, I spent the evening in helpless tears.  This unnerved Himself to the point that he offered to try and call someone on my behalf.  Anyone who knows Himself knows that he hates making phone calls, to the point that when we first got together he made me place all takeaway orders.  *lol*  He has graduated to calling the local Indian, but he's still not a fan. Of course, there was nobody he could call that I couldn't have called (or had already called) myself, and I don't know if anyone would have even spoken to him in the first place.  The offer was still appreciated. The weekend passed, and I continued to take my pills in the hope that I'd find a...

This afternoon, I had a meeting with my now-ex psychiatrist.  That should give you a hint about how well it went. On our last visit, in the context of an update on my life and what I'd been dealing with since we last met, I repeated something to her that my husband said to me in an argument.  On that basis, she changed my meds from one I was doing really well on to one that made me want to throw myself under a bus.  Literally.  After a couple of days on the new medication, I was more than aware that all was not well and started attempting to speak to my doctor.  Four days later, I finally got a response from her.  At this point, I had already stopped taking the meds that made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there.  She agreed to put me back on the meds I hadn't wanted to stop taking in the first place, but it took her almost a week to get the prescription to me. Unmedicated me is not fun.  Unmedicated me bounces off walls, is uncontrolla...