Home again...

Well, the damn Zyprexa landed me in the hospital. On Tuesday, I just lost it completely.

I was screaming, ranting about things crawling on me and shadows coming after me, and clawing at my skin trying to make the crawling things go away. I was hearing voices that told me to kill myself. I poured all my Klonopin into my hand and Cliff had to physically force me not to swallow them and to put them back in the bottle.

So Cliff told me either he'd take me to the hospital or he'd call 911 and let them take me. I let him take me and I got home early this afternoon.

The doctor in the hospital put me back on Invega and gave me enough to get through a month and a half so maybe I can straighten out the financial situation with my regular psychiatrist's office so I can go see my psychiatrist again. Also, by then, I'll have had my disability hearing (please please please please please let it come through) so maybe I'll have that help by then too.

Tessa is a kittiot...

Okay, for those who don't know, I live in a mobile home with partial built-in box wooden blinds on the windows in the living-room-kitchen-dining-room area. My cat Sweetie Pie has learned to get up on top of the blinds so she can see out the window. Both my cats have mastered the art of opening the blinds by sticking their paws between blinds and pulling down.

Tessa decided she couldn't let Sweetie Pie (who is younger and smaller than Tess) outdo her, so she climbed up onto the top of one of the box blinds.

She apparently neglected to consider just precisely how the fuck she was going to get down from there. Cliff had to rescue her, after she looked around the room like, WTF? How do I get down from here?

Too funny. There are days when I wonder why I have pets. Days like today prove why I keep them.

ETA: "Kittiot" is a portmanteau of "kitty" and "idiot" that I came up with about ten years ago completely by accident. I was trying to say, "you kitty idiot" to a cat I had at the time and came out with "you kittiot."