I’ve reinstated the posts I had pulled down. I had just stored them in my ‘drafts’ and not deleted them. To my great surprise and delight, when I re-posted them, the comments on those entries were also restored. I re-read everyone’s kind words and got all emotional and teary again.
I explained to a couple of you, via email, what happened and why I pulled the posts down. Here’s a copied-and-pasted explanation for the rest of the group:
I was feeling SO much better after I talked to my doctor. Then I went to get the prescription filled, and I had my first taste of what an anxiety attack must feel like….I started sweating and shaking, I felt like crying, I felt sick, I just kept thinking, “ohgodohgodohgodohgod we cannot afford this…” How the hell can an antidepressant that costs so much make anyone feel better? I sank so low…lower, I think, than I’ve ever been.
I wrote a frantic, frenzied post [Thursday] night…I just needed to (virtually) scream for a minute…
Y’know, the thing about this “anonymous” blogging thing is…once you’ve made some online friends, you’re really not anonymous at all anymore. Within a couple of hours, a kind soul was offering to set up a Paypal button for me. I felt….well, it just didn’t feel right, the thought of virtual (in both senses of the word) strangers doing that for me, so I asked her not to, and pulled all of the posts down. I just…I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And I started thinking that I probably shouldn’t have aired my dirty laundry in the first place. I mean, it felt good to get it all out, but…..I don’t know.
So. That’s what went down.
And, as you can see, I’ve decided to air my dirty laundry once again. Because, really, it’s not so much ‘dirty laundry’ as it is just a part of me. And I am allowed to be me, especially here, in my own damn web space.
That Thursday night, I really was in worse shape than I’d ever been in. I felt like I had finally, officially become more of a liability than an asset to my family. (The formula is something like this:
C + EH – E = NW
where C=Mom’s Contributions to the family, EH=Mom’s Emotional Health, E=Mom’s Expenses to the Family (including costs for maintenance of physical/mental health), and NW=Mom’s Net Worth to the family. When NW becomes a negative number, Mom has officially become a liability to the family. (Look, I told you I’m math and logic-oriented. I can’t help it.)) The entire hour’s drive home from the doctor’s office that afternoon, I tried to perfect a plan…
Okay, I can’t swallow a bunch of pills, because the life insurance probably doesn’t cover suicide. So it has to look like an accident. Maybe if I swerve over in front of an eighteen-wheeler….But what if that doesn’t kill me? What if I just end up in the hospital? That’s even MORE expense and frustration for everyone. Good grief, what if I ended up needing medical care for the rest of my life because of it? Then I’d be even MORE of a liability. So…maybe if I can get the Suburban going fast enough, like 95 or 100 mph, then swerve over in front of a semi at the last minute? Surely that would do it…
Yes, it’s scary, I know. I’m sorry, but I’m just being honest here. And I honestly think the only thing that kept me from doing it that day was the fact that I’d already payed for the damn prescription. It was sitting in the passenger seat, right beside me. No sense letting it go to waste, right? (It’s fairly obvious that the “rational” part of my brain has lost all sense of what “rational” actually is.)
I started the meds that Thursday evening (8/11). Deputy Dad had already called the local mental health program; he knows the people there through his job. They saw me on Friday; I still felt so dark and lifeless inside, I couldn’t hardly talk about anything. The woman who interviewed me, D, said if I qualified for their program, I could get my meds at no cost. I went back on Monday for more paperwork, talked to their psychiatrist Wednesday, and found out I had qualified (which is either good or bad, depending on how you look at it: good, because I can get help without the expense of it making me want to do myself in; and bad, because hello? Mental Health program? I thought that was just for the mentally ill? Oh. Depression. Illness. Right.) I found out later that they actually have a waiting list, but D had pulled some strings to get me in right away because she felt like I “really needed help.” (See preceding parenthetical good/bad evaluation.)
The past week or so has been a rollercoaster ride. I’ve had moments when I’ve felt really upbeat and thought, “Hey! The meds must be working. I feel better already!” (They told me it would probably take at least two weeks to notice any difference at all; and a month or so to see a significant difference.)
I’ve had moments of paranoid panic, like last Wednesday night, when I actually heard voices.*
I’ve also had more sinking-to-the-bottom moments, like last Friday (my birthday), when Deputy Dad and I had plans to go out to dinner! together! just the two of us! without the kids! We’d been planning for and looking forward to our ‘date’ for months; I spent all day Friday excited about our plans, thinking, Okay, I’ll leave work at 4:00, get home, Deputy Dad will grab a quick shower and get dressed, we’ll drop off the kids at the in-laws’ and be on our way. Then, when I got home that afternoon, Big Boy had just gotten up from his nap, which he had, apparently, not finished. He was cranky and fussy; he needed a snack; the girls were whining for a snack; the living room was a wreck; the kitchen was a DISASTER. I was immediately upset and in a bad mood, the moment I walked in the door. Deputy Dad sat in the chair while I held Big Boy with one hand and fixed his snack with the other hand; then I got the girls a snack. Deputy Dad was STILL sitting in the chair when I said, “Umm…why don’t you go ahead and jump in the shower?” While he was showering and dressing, I ran around like a wild woman, emptying and filling the dishwasher, cleaning up the kitchen, straightening up the living room, and carrying a cranky, whiny toddler half the time, while I was working. By the time Deputy Dad casually sauntered out of the bedroom, clean, dressed, and ready to go, I was angry, upset, and disappointed, and hot and sweaty from all the running around. I didn’t want to go ANYWHERE. It took a few hours to finally cool off (physically and mentally), and then, of course, it was too late to go; so I spent the rest of the evening crying because I’d ruined our plans.
Saturday was terrible, too, emotionally. I’ll spare you the details on that one; this is already long enough. But yesterday was a little better. Like I said, it’s been a rollercoaster.
Anyway. That’s “How I’ve Been,” an update for the kind souls who’ve been inquiring…and for the kind souls who were afraid to ask.
Once again, I must thank you all for being so loving and supportive through this. It has meant so much to me.
. . .
*I always thought the whole hearing voices thing was…well, I don’t really know what I thought about it, except that it sounded pretty kooky. But…I woke up Wednesday night because I
thought I heard** someone call my first and last name. Thinking it must be some kind of crossover dream/waking thing (even though it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before), I went back to sleep, only to wake up a short time later when I heard Miss Attitude whispering, “Mama…..Mama….” Somehow I knew she wasn’t there, but I sat up in the bed to look for her anyway. She wasn’t. I was totally. freaked. out. I was shaking and scared, thinking, Okay, I’m hearing things. What’s next? Seeing things? I even woke up Deputy Dad and told him about it, I was so freaked out and panicked. I called D (mental health lady) the next day; she said hearing voices can be caused by depression, or as a side effect of the meds. She instructed me to keep a journal and let her know if it happened again. Thankfully, it has not. ‘Cause, seriously. Freaked. My. Shit. Out.
**I keep wanting to say, “I thought I heard…”, but there was no mistake that I heard it. It wasn’t like when the TV’s on, and you think you hear someone calling you. It was totally different. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before (and, hopefully, never will again). *shudder*