Today was an off day.
Some good came of it, but at the end of the day I still felt shitty as hell.
My husband and I discussed my upcoming doctor’s appointment. He won’t be able to go with me, but we did have a long discussion about how things are going.
He told me some changes that he’s noticed in the past month. “You seem more like your old self, before you started taking any meds a couple years ago. You seem down more, but you don’t seem like a zombie, either.”
Less like a zombie–must be the new moisturizer.
S told me that I seemed very indifferent up until the past few weeks, but that he’s noticed more emotion (even if it’s not positive emotion), more laughter, more emotional involvement with the kid(s), that my sense of humor is back (back? we’ll agree to disagree on that one), that he noticed me picking up on some old hobbies I used to enjoy.
He suggested I make a pros and cons list for myself to get a better idea of how Effexor is working.
I made one. The cons really seem to outweigh the pros (short of “shitting gold,” it’s pretty tough to find something to tilt the scale after putting down “suicidal thoughts” and “desire to hurt self”), but being more myself is still pretty fucking huge.
I also showed him the list, which we discussed, so he basically knows everything now, not just the abridged version of the abridged version.
He noticed immediately this afternoon when that familiar cloud appeared and asked me if everything was okay. I told him it was, but he pressed me, and I told him I was feeling like shit. He gave me a hug and we went home.
Little Man got upset with his dad this afternoon and had to go to his room for a timeout (he did actually go when he was told, for a change). I could hear him in there stomping around and huffing, so went in and handed him a notebook and told him to write down what he was feeling, that it might make him feel better. He did, plus drew a picture, and then we talked about it a little while later. The knack that kid has for writing, I don’t know why I haven’t suggested that before, since he has a tough time with his emotions, too.
But, back to other things, I wonder if I was wrong to want to get rid of anxiety and depression in the first place. Both have been there a long time. Maybe they’re just too much a part of me to give the boot. It can be hell at times, but maybe if I’m a better person to be around with than without, that’s something to think about. Would you rather?
I just don’t know.
My head feels like such a mess more often than not lately. There is so much suffering all over, and here I am, some fool stuck inside her head while her American dream life (or as close as you can get in 2015) happens around her.