Losing my medication, or losing my mind
I had only a couple of doses of my preventive migraine medication left when I finally called the doctor’s office to have the prescription refilled. My local pharmacy was closed on Sunday, the day I was set to run out after the morning dose, so I knew I’d be missing just one dose of medication before being able to resume my twice-daily dosage Monday morning.
It sounds pretty lame, but I was actually proud of myself for remembering to call the doctor (even though I was late in doing so) and even prouder I remembered to pick the dang medication up at the pharmacy. Things have been insanely busy at the bookshop this month (for which I’m very thankful) and, at home, life was in a state of sadness and turmoil as we started to realize that our beloved kitten’s health was getting worse as time passed. Between running home a few times a day to take care of Wally (the cat) and running a bustling new bookstore business, I’ve been falling into old patterns of meal-skipping, not exercising, and not always remembering to take my medicine on time (if at all).
And then my kitten died, and I cried so hard I gave myself a persistent three-day migraine (is crying a lot a trigger for anyone else? Sheesh, it’s a rough one—as if you’re not feeling worse enough already from the sadness!). And I lost my bottle of medication and the store got even busier and the house got even messier and I have now missed several days of medication and I don’t really care.
Ew, I sound so ugly. But I do think it’s good to have a post here once in a while about what can happen when life goes topsy-turvy and even some of my most important priorities (my health among them) get neglected and I don’t much care.
This is not to say I am not content in general. I love my town, I love my house (even though there are piles of laundry everywhere), I love my family, I love my friends, I love my boyfriend, I love my bookstore. My dream business is off to a spectacular start, and my migraines have been under control. So it’s not as if I’m deliberately engaging in some self-damaging behavior as a reaction to being depressed or despondent. I can’t explain it. I just don’t much care about looking for my medication right now. It’s somewhere around here. I’ll get to it.
Sheesh, I thought writing this post would make me get off my butt and find the missing prescription. But instead I’ll curl up with my book and try to not miss my little snuggle bunny cat too much. It’s overwhelming how I can feel so very sad but so very content at the same time. And maybe I’ll look for the medicine and put away all this laundry. Tomorrow.
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