Weakened Update (get it? it's a pun)

Sorry, no Stefon monologue here. Just me.

A very busy day today, so not a lot of time to write on the blog, but I thought I'd give you a brief update on this very pivotal and (potentially) scary day of my life:

I went back to work for the first time since my hospitalization. I cannot express how nervous I was about this moment. But as it turns out, everyone was very nice in a low-key, nonchalant way. I'm not exactly sure how much everyone knows about what went on last week. Because I work so closely with my immediate supervisor and have known her for nine years, I decided to tell her everything. She was very understanding, and this put me at ease. It looks like there are some extra hours coming my way, which is a good thing since I want to stay busy and may have some nasty medical bills coming my way soon.

The whole bill thing has me freaked out, honestly. I'm phobic about spending money because I never want to feel like I owe anybody anything. But I'm trying to not concentrate on it and get on with my life. I have some money squirreled away, and if spending a little of it is what it takes to get well, so be it.

My body is still adjusting to the meds. Personally, I think I'm being over-medicated and that one or maybe two of them could be eliminated. We'll see. Of course, I won't do anything without medical approval. The pills haven't exactly killed my appetite, but they leave kind of a dry, vaguely unpleasant taste in my mouth all day and they've killed my usual cravings for junk food and candy. I now have to remind myself to eat, which is new for me. I'm perfectly capable of eating, and it's not nauseating or anything, but I no longer derive pleasure from the act of consuming food. I'd like to reverse that, if possible.

Tomorrow afternoon is my first appointment with a therapist. I've tried therapy a couple of times in the past, and it's never really worked for me. But maybe this time will be different. Who knows? In the past, I've always felt obligated to please the therapist by pretending I'm making more progress than I really am.

Wow. None of what I just wrote is remotely funny. Sorry about that. As Edith Massey once said, "You can't be a winner every time, hon."

But now it's off to band rehearsal. It's the first time for that since my hospitalization, too, of course. I think it should go fine. We're probably rehearsing Christmas music by now. Oh, god, Christmas. Another whole set of neuroses!