I finally went back to the psychiatrist. I knew from the first few moments I met him that I would like him. My mom went with me for my first appointment, and he asked her, "Do you want to come back and help me torture her?". We had originally planned for mom to come in with me, but while we were waiting, she told me that it was my decision, and she would sit in the waiting room if I didn't want her to come. In the last few months I have become more open and honest with her, so I didn't have a problem with her sitting in. It actually turned out great, because I'm not going to be able to go to her appointment with her since I have to work. I was originally supposed to go with her to her appointment so I could tell the doc things she forgot. She started taking notes about things she needed to tell him during her appointment.
We walk into his office and I see dozens of dragon figurines, as well as a lot of Star Trek memorabilia. It was awesome. It was a fairly short visit, much shorter than it was with my last dr. It was concluded that I'm bipolar 1, not bipolar 2. He did say that in the coming years, the number on the end probably won't make a difference, because they are usually treated the same way. During the session I realized that I had more problems than I thought I did - I knew that a lot of bipolar people had anger issues, but I didn't think that I did. I was wrong. He asked me if I got angry, and I told him yes. But I only got mad about stupid little stuff, not major issues. Like if hubby didn't put his wallet in the right place, I'd get pissed. Then it hit me. 'Holy shit, I do have anger issues. I'm one of those people.' It was a shocking realization, to say the least. But after I let it sink in, I was glad to finally understand why I got so mad sometimes. I hate getting mad at hubby, especially when I get mad over stuff that doesn't really matter. At the end of the appointment, the doctor summed me up in one sentence. And he was completely right. So he gave me several new meds. A happy pill to help me get out of the depressive funk I've been in, a bipolar med to help control the anger and level out my moods, and upped the dosage on an anti-depressant that my rheumy used to have me on.
I started my meds on Saturday night, that way if things went bad, I wouldn't have to be at work the next day. I still ended up missing Monday, because the combination of my bipolar meds with the sleeping pill I was given made me horribly drowsy and unable to concentrate. I didn't take the sleeping pill last night, and I wasn't so drowsy this morning - but I did have horrible dry mouth. That's apparently a side effect of all the new meds I'm on. It's not really a bad things, though, because it'll make me drink more water.
So I'm hopeful about the new meds. I'm looking forward to being normal again, having less anxiety, and maybe even having a social life. And speaking of being normal, my second job at the pottery shop has been great for me. After 23.5 years of believing I had no artistic ability whatsoever, especially in comparison to my sister, I was wrong. I can actually paint - at least if I'm following a design I can. Here's all the work I have done so far: