I don't know what is happening to me. I am talking to a bridging clinic and they're concerned for mania. The 125mg of trazadone seems to be doing less and less for sleep. And during this week it did barely anything.
I slept almost nothing this week until I took an ativan hammer to my face for the past two days to knock me out.
My thinking was like this:
Bitch, you gotta move. You're landlord rarely fixes a lock, you found your lock broken and your door open. It could just be nothing gets fixed and the lock just disintegrated, but this is bad.
Tells landlord about lock. He brushes it off. Tells him again after catching him in the hall. He says he'll fix it in 2 days.
I come home the next day after going to Walmart and shoppers drugmart and I can't get in the door. My immunocompromised neighbour can't make it budge, and now we've broken social distancing just to get me in the fucking door. It doesn't open.
The landlord says he'll be by in a few hours with a new lock.
I decide try to at least wash my coat. The washing machine was broken.
In the meantime I call a friend, crack open a bottle of red wine and proceed to drink in my driveway while my friend comes to get me.
I get picked up and wash my clothes at my friend's and stay the night.
I beg to stay the two weeks at their place and said I can't deal with the noise at my place.
I can't stay at my friend's though for whatever reason.
The week is a blur. I decide to make my way out to the town I am looking to move to. Barely any sleep and 6 hours of driving. I make it. Go to the bank. See two places. Make a tentative deal with a potential roommate but I am cautious. Decide not to take my own apartment because I am laid off. Don't sign anything and don't give any money to anyone.
I have a crying panic attack on the phone with my aunt who tells me to calm down.
I call my glorious Dr/pharmacy and get some ativan for sleep. Talk to them about putting me back on seroquel to let me ride out this shit storm with better moods and sleep.
They do delivery. I teleconference a psych and my family doctor okays my prescription.
I get home and now my outside door is locked and broken and I can't get in. A tenant lets me in and I feed my cat.
I lose my shit at the landlord. I then stayed at my friend's and I end up barely sleeping.
I went home the next day. Took my 1.5 mg of ativan and drift off to sleep for oh/roughly 16 hours.
When I wake. I take .5 mg of ativan to float through my day. I sleep more. At 11pm (I think) I take a 1mg of ativan. My dreams are littered with footsteps and noises upstairs. I wake up 2am. Take another 1mg of ativan. I forget if I am even bothered with taking trazadone. I'm so exhausted I fall back to sleep. I wake at 7am have cereal and crash out and wake in the afternoon.
I just explained to one of the tenants that not cleaning out the lint trap in the dryer can cause a fire. I don't think any of them have a single fucking clue about this.🤦♀️