Bipolar – What to Do When the People Who Check You Take Your Meds Are Growing Up?

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The idea of living on my own with no one to check my meds over to make sure I’m on track and taking the right dose when it gets changed or starting something new….  terrifies me.

Jessica, my beautiful 22 year-old is living at the AFB in Tamp, FL. She’s about as far away as she can be and still be in the states. Years, for years she kept an eye on me. It was especially so much so when I had my first knee replacement, replaced. I was in far too much pain and the meds weren’t helping. It was so horrible. I don’t know how she managed it all. And she pretty much ran the house (younger brother and sister).

When the kids were a bit younger we made a very unusual pact. The pact was about my not reliably taking my meds and knowing how I’m doing and such. My moral compasses, that’s what they have been. My psych ones too – especially so.

This was the pact: I would live with one of them (or very near) so they can keep me safe. Let’s face it. Over the years I’ve come to admit that I could hurt myself if I let myself go. I wouldn’t. I’d been relying upon that and that makes me feel safe. And that’s super important.

Problem: Jess is in the AF, Kyle is a full-time student at UWT in downtown Tacoma and Sydney likewise is a full-time student, and has a part-time job. Sydney plans to move out and onto a campus as soon as she graduates and gets accepted at one of her chosen colleges. Kyle is a Tacoma boy and loves it here. He’ll probably do all of his Bachelor’s degree at UWT.

Jess gone and living on MacDill AFB. Syd will be gone. It will be myself and Kyle. I don’t mind living with my handsome boy (Sydney would the other two a run for their money in the looks dept I say with motherly intent), but, I don’t want him to be the college kid who lives with mommy. Know what I mean?

Kyle’s friends and I get on well generally. I don’t want to be a burden.

Then there is the pack. One of them will always “take care” of me. I don’t trust myself alone. That’s just the truth. Neither do they.

I don’t think we considered the time between high school and real jobs.

And my dad is dying. I’m getting new teeth being made at UW School of something something.

And I’m a bit terrified.

My tick reached epic proportions when last afternoon I couldn’t speak at all. If my extra dose of Diazepam had not worked we were heading to the ER. It was time to get it under control. After the long wait for these beautiful teeth… I’m going to potential be biting myself everytime I open my mouth.

Damn the stars.

These ticks really are devastating. I always hand the phone to a kid or don’t answer. Talking with my mom about other non-essential issues set me over the top yesterday. I lost my cookies and completely melted down  as evidenced by this violent inability to talk.

I’m thrilled for my kids and to get new teeth. And I’m also terrified.

Can you relate?

Your friend,

Robin

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