I’m in kind of a bad place right now, from lack of Abilify, I’m guessing. Hating on myself.
I did try to get it refilled about a week ago through the portal. But, except for their clinical staff, Lifestance really kind of sucks at communicating, and no refills have been processed, as far as I know.
Unless Newmarket Rite-aid got it and couldn’t be bothered to notify me, because they suck, too.
I think I would be equally critical of those institutions on the Abilify as off of it, by the way. Lack of Abilify only seems to affect how I feel about myself.
I started Abilify in 2017, right after I had Aislyn, when I couldn’t control my tears. I cried right in front of my father one day. I don’t remember why. I’m sure I had postpartum with Aislyn, though.
Not that becoming emotional in front of my dad was anything new. I just feel bad and kind of embarrassed now when it happens, I don’t know why.
The Donahers aren’t known for their stoicism, or anything like that. We have the Irish history, but I’d say we’re pretty average when it comes to expressing our emotions.
Actually, if my grandparents and parents were right, I descend from a few different Western European bloodlines. Also my grandmother was French Canadian. Spoke the language and everything.
In addition to Irish and French, I supposedly also have German, Scottish, and English. My mother used to say Russian, but I don’t know if that’s correct.
I am a mutt.
I don’t know what, if any personality or cultural traits I carry from my ancestry. By now, I think the only trait I probably have in common with my ancestors is my red hair.
My dad always said, “You are American.”
He was right.
This was a giant tangent.
I guess I probably just don’t want my dad to worry about me. But I’m sure he does worry, regardless. That’s his job.
He probably worries much less about me than he does about my younger brother, though.
He’s in trouble. I know it.
Some people would drive down and see him, if they were me. I know because they’ve told me.
Should I do that?
What good would it do?
He has to want help. And even if he does, what can I do? I can’t afford what he probably needs.
My dad can.
Honestly, I’m afraid of what I would see. Is that selfish? Stupid?
Of course we know I wear my emotions right out on my sleeve. If he or his place look bad enough, I’m probably going to cry. Who is that going to help?
I don’t think Derek would want me going down there, either.
It’s just that, what happens if something happens?
I guess I have no control over that.
I’ve reached out many times. He’s chosen not to answer.
It’s slowly changing the color of my hair.
That, and everything else.