“You look so good tonight,” my father told me affectionately as he sat on my couch. “You would never know you were struggling mentally and internally. Your eyes look so clear and bright. A few weeks ago, they looked deathly and dim.”
“That’s the conundrum of mental illness,” I decreed. “That’s why it is so hard to diagnose. You go into the ER for a severe anxiety attack and they don’t know what to do with you when all their tests come back that you are physically fit.”
“How is your anxiety?”
“I feel better tonight than I have in weeks,” I told him. “I don’t want this moment to end.”
Dad smiled and reached out to hold my hand.
“Good,” he said almost quietly as if he was relieved. He turned his attention back to the Weather Channel that was droning endlessly about disaster on my television.
We made it to the doctor. The doctor prescribed me an extra Klonopin to take around lunch time when my anxiety hits the hardest. Dad had mixed feelings about giving me that extra pill tonight. He is going to have to trust me to take it prudently and as prescribed. He can’t watch me swallow it the next day and thus save them up. I think it will be an important step in us building trust between us again. The ball is in my court.
We ended up eating at Hardee’s instead of Western Sizzlin’ earlier today. We were both overjoyed when we learned they served breakfast until lunch and we could get our sausage and steak biscuits we so love. I got dad to order an extra sausage biscuit for Maggie which she just inhaled when we got home.
We got a big rain today and I was so relieved. My lawn was parched. I almost thought it was hailing the rain drops were so big and making such a clamor on the roof. It didn’t last but thirty minutes, but it was thirty minutes of bliss for me.
Mom called tonight after dad had gotten home from our medication ritual.
“Your daddy says you are feeling really good tonight,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied with an air of relief in my voice.
We didn’t talk but just a moment, but it was good hearing mom’s voice and her concern and love. I’ve said it before, but my mother is one of the few people who gets me and understands me after her own trials and tribulations with mental illness.