Look at me go! I’m now registered to start classes this Fall to become a chemical dependency counselor. I think it will take about a year of school, then a year of work to become fully licensed. I still plan to go on to finish my BA and hopefully grad school – but this is a quick(er) way to get a job skill that might actually net me a semi-decent paycheck and health insurance while I grind my way through the next ten years of college.

Thirty days have elapsed since my last dose of Suboxone. As I predicted, the past week, also known as the PMS week, has been the hardest. My hormone cycle seems intimately and intricately bound up with my fibromyalgia and as my estrogen drops my pain increases. And because I like to fuck myself even more royally, this is the time when I give up and sit around watching tv and reading instead of pushing on thru with the yoga and the walking and all those other things that I “know” would make me feel better. Theoretically.

Give into it I did this month. I fought so hard through the first two weeks of withdrawal that I was just spent by the third week and had fuck-all for the fourth. But hey, that’s why I quit a month early…to give myself time to get through this, right? And getting through I am. I hope.

Lack of sleep didn’t help the situation much either. Doc gave me ambien, which does put me to sleep but I think it messes with my daytime motivation. Seemed like I was actually getting more done before I started with the sleep-aid. Can’t win for now, but it will pass. Still, even with all this PMS bitching, this has been WAY easier than I was thinking it would be. I thought I would be in bed crying and screaming my hate of life but it’s been nothing that dramatic.

I predict that if I force myself to take a walk eery morning for the next 30 days, I will be feeling 100% better at the end of September. So that is what I’m going to do. Take a fucking walk.

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