1/4 of clonazepam

1/4 of a clonazepam and quitting
A weight is lifting.

But I am not entirely quitting
and that is nice.
They want to keep me on
just as the academic advisor for the kids that are and will utilize it
and as a fill in if on occasions they need it.
If I am up to it.
I am.
And I am so glad to be valued
to not have to walk away completely from all the positives of the job.
I am glad I caught myself in time, in my shutting down, to quite them, or at least come to a workable place, before they quite me.

That would likely break me again even if I had shut down completely.
Instead, life is good in this moment.
Tired but good
and I am subtly happy

Shutting Down

The psychiatrist I found, and had I an appointment with, but not until the end of September, is moving to "something like New Zealand" says the lady on the phone, so we need to reschedule with the PA who does not have TBI experience.
Of all places to "something like" mention... This is where my ex-Pandora's-box-breaking neuropsychologist is from.
She says [lady on the phone] she will look into their other location and see what she can find, then call me back. She'll help me find the right person.
This sounds familiar...
Concussion doctor said she would help me find a new team only to: initially ignore my attempt to follow up and then -on the second attempt and after my husband called- have her assistant tell me she couldn't find anyone. But it doesn't end there. It was next followed by a termination letter letting me know I would no longer be treated at their facility for "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues."

...I have not heard back from the lady from the psychiatrist office.
So I am left trying to follow Concussion Doctors advice but with no resources to do so and no help from them.
I have actually had them suggested as the place to go.
daggers to my heart and do I really deserve this?
It'd be so much easier had I not been trying to manage mania, if I were symptom free currently.

But I am shutting down.
And with my job the writing is on the wall;
I need to quite ...before I get fired.
But this time the writing on the wall, I believe, is mainly coming from me.
I am not balanced and the insecurities that I currently have, the fragile place I am in, -that I thought I was coming out of, that I thought I was managing well and would improve with a consistent work schedule and a good job at a good place with good people- is too fragile still and I am not managing well.
My heart is broken and I feel so disappointed in myself.
...
Got to pull out, and I will.
but I'm pretty sure I need to quite before they quite me.

the mess of me and processing

I meant to go running. I'm in the clothes and ready to go, all the way down to the shoes.
But I started painting instead. And as I paint I am thinking of all I have learned about myself and life through my recent painting practices and how it has helped me process and let go of things...
Then suddenly I have the pressing urge to write about it.
So the canvas and paint, and even the container of water, all still sit on the floor while I come on here to type it out.
I am embracing my crazy and accepting me for who or what I am in this moment. I have the time and the space to do that right now. In this moment and I am in a safe and comfortable space. so why fight it?
It is nice to have this space.
I am glad that I am safe and comfortable in this moment.
In the picture I am painting I see texture and color that is interesting to me, engaging, but still a bit uncomfortable in it's current form.
My paintings are messy
colorful and blended
rarely are their harsh bold straight lines
there are clear lines and boundaries but so often they are blended and integrated.
Integrating and combining so many colors and textures. I love the colors and textures.
So very often I paint sideways, at an angle.
So much of it doesn't make sense.
I blend colors that are not meant to be blended and I very often don't clean my brush before switching colors.
I am rarely trying to paint something specific. I just let what ever come out.
The brush may speak to me, and the colors. But nothing is very intentional. just playful, learning, exploring and curious.
I don't like a lot of what I am painting or I find it uncomfortable. I look at my creations often and think "that is really ugly" or "that was a mistake"
so I keep going.
Until it no longer looks like a mistake
or until it makes sense to me
or until I just feel done for the time being.
Occasionally something comes out rather quickly and the picture tells me it is done.
I am not always done at that point so then I paint something else or revisit a previously abandoned piece.
I am not a skilled or talented artist but I love and enjoy this process. I love and enjoy my work. I have even hung some on the walls.
and even though others may think I am odd or may not care for my art I am happy with it and
they make sense to me.

A picture that told me when it was complete. The harsh straight lines are not my work but rather cracks in the wood  that is its canvas.