Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Have a drink with me?

Someone is getting HUGE. 

Let's catch up, shall we? And not in that whole virtual grabbing a cup of coffee sort of way. This sort of unloading requires vodka and cigarettes..... neither of which do I currently partake in.... but maybe I should because this lady needs a damn vice or two.

As if antidepressants aren't enough. Okay, sometimes they are not.

So, if we were sharing some beers right now,  I'd tell you all about how I have been off the Zoloft for about 7 weeks now. Or so James has told me because I can't keep track of everything. After the initial positive results I had on it..... oh, I'd say a month or so..... things went down hill fast. I was way more agitated, foggy headed, and the sugar cravings were through the roof. I saw a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Bipolar. He explained that this is why the Zoloft was having a more depressing result for me. But instead of taking me off of it they wanted to add more meds.....

I couldn't handle that.

In the meantime I had to see my primary care doctor who freaked out at the 60lbs I've gained since having Rowan. She insisted I wean off the Zoloft immediately because she's convinced that's the cause.

Damn sugar cravings.

Were you going to eat that brownie?

Yeah, so she found I was also super super low in vitamin D which may be part of the problem too.

Detox was rough. Coming off the zoloft was a little insane. The brain zaps themselves left me dizzy and terrified most of the time. I still don't feel quite right..... not that I ever was ;)

Things aren't better yet. Not even close. I'm pretty depressed and as you can see (if you were actually sitting here) I am up 75lbs currently weighing more than I have in my entire life. My health is shot and it's hard to even get up and down off the floor to play with my kids. Nothing is right at the moment.

But there is hope.

For three days this week my mind felt sharp again. The sugar cravings have subsided entirely and I think that will help the weight loss. Being able to physically move again will certainly lighten this mood up some.

Or so I hope.

During those three days I was actually a bit happy too. Maybe there is a light now at the end of this tunnel.

Whether the Zoloft is leaving my system or maybe what ever postpartum evilness that is causing this is subsiding, I don't know. But it's comforting to know that this may not just be my new normal. That I may not have to find a way to live like this. Because I was starting to worry that I wouldn't be able to.

This year has been rough. And I have missed so so much. I feel like I have missed out on the baby growing up. This Saturday he'll be one.....ONE! I feel like I've been trapped in this void and I don't even know how a year has passed. I'm here with him but I am not fully present in my life right now. I look at Raine and I can't believe I have a 4 year old kid. He sometimes feels so foreign to me. I'm hoping that this is finally coming to an end. Or at least a bearable existence. Because I miss actually living.

The world keeps moving forward no matter how stagnant I've felt. There is no stopping it. So I just need to wake up now. Dear God, please let it finally be happening.

The boys are amazing and are flourishing despite their mother being a bit looney tunes. James is plugging along being the best husband and father on the planet. Or should I call him the mother? Because he's sort of the damn mother now. I give him credit for not just simply divorcing my ass after everything he's been through with me. Sometimes I get so angry about all of this but he remains pretty constant. If I do come out of this it will be in part due to his diligence in keeping the rest of the world stable and ready for me to tread back into reality.

Although he could at least fold the laundry once in awhile ;)

We want more kids but I'll admit, this whole thing has scared me off just a tad. If I have Bipolar like my doctors suggest then I have had it my whole life. I can accept that and clearly before all this I had it somewhat under control. But coupled with postpartum depression it's made this a bit of a nightmare.

I'll have to carefully consider this in the future. I'm not sure there is a way to prepare for this either. Antidepressants work wonders for many sufferers but due to my Bipolar that's no longer an option for me. Being on the Zoloft could very well be the reason I am worse off right now.

That's sort of my hope now though. That the Zoloft just interacted poorly with my disorder and bam! Hell for a year. I'm, perhaps unrealistically, grasping at the possibility that my postpartum depression/anxiety could have been handled better were it not for those medications. And it's not like my doctors knew..... I wasn't diagnosed until AFTER all of this had went down.

Which makes me seriously question the validity of the doctors I had seen my entire adolescence. *eyeroll*

It's something. Something to hang on to. Something to grasp on while I pull myself out of this muck I'm in.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

What do you do all day?

Note: This post was originally posted in another space where I was contributing. I wanted to share it here though. Keep all my writing in one easy access point :)

People love to speculate exactly what it is that I do all day. Not my husband, of course….. Because he’s smarter than that. But I think people so easily assume that I just sit around doing nothing. That that’s what stay at home moms do. 
Well, I’ll tell ya…… Sometimes that’s true. At least it feels that way. 
I clean an hour a day. That’s pretty much it. The rest is spent with the kids. Learning, playing, homeschool, reading, exploring, meals, blowing bubbles, potty training the dog….. Which we seem to be failing at miserably. You get the point. 
To an onlooker it probably actually does look like I’m not doing much with my time. But I like to think I am doing one of the most important jobs in the world. 
Raising my kids. 
I am just fortunate enough to do it full time and want to. But most moms do it. Most dads do it. Whether we work or stay home, choose a career or give it up, we raise our kids. 
Sometimes at the end of the day though I wonder “what did I actually accomplish?” Because it can feel so small. I’m a workaholic by nature and I miss that feeling of accomplishment I would feel at the end of a hard day at work. Sometimes in parenthood that reward for hard work isn’t as evident at the end of the day. Sometimes it takes years to see the strides you’ve made. 
Days where the house is a little dirty and your hair is a mess. When the dishes are piled in the sink and you’re still wearing the same shirt as the day before. Your husband comes home and asks you how your day went and all you can really throw out is that your oldest learned to use the potty. 
That’s right, your kid took a shit on the toilet. 
You didn’t do anything else. Not a goddamn thing but the kid made an offering to the porcelain gods for the first time. 
So yeah, maybe the dishes aren’t done, honey. But I taught a human to poop! 
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Friday, January 23, 2015

The Bitch is Back

Wanting to die is a lot like wanting to delete your Facebook account. You're usually just fed up with the emotions. People posting stupid shit. Your cousin keeps posting heartwarming bubbly meme's all over your feed and you are about ready to smack a bitch. Mostly you just want to check out because the bullshit meter says you're all filled up for a good decade.

The thing about deleting Facebook is, it's easy. But we rarely think about the consequences in the heat of the moment. You are just scrolling through one day and it's all "fuck this shit" and you delete the hell out of that motherfucker. Sometimes it takes a few hours and other times it takes a few weeks before you realize how damn convenient Facebook can be. It's really damn hard to mail aunt Terri pictures of the kiddos when two weeks ago you could have just messaged them to her.

Shit.

We don't ever really think about how the shit will hit the fan if we die. I doubt aunt Terri will be getting any fucking pictures AT ALL, I'll say that much.

I don't want to die. I am not suicidal. But I do think about it sometimes. In a "will this pain ever freaking go away" sort of way.  But I imagine that is something we all do, right? Don't say no..... you'll totally destroy my argument.

Wait, what argument?

I have plenty to live for. I am still in a place where I can imagine that dying will really fucking suck. I don't want to die..... I just FEEL like I am dying. I'm too tough to actually want to give up so easy but damn, it feels like I have freaking cancer or something. Or a parasite eating my guts. Ew.

I've been in that place before though. I know I am no where near that because I have been there. I suppose that should be comforting?

It's hope. And that's what I am holding on to right now. Hope that someday this pain will subside. The way it always has in the past. These emotions tend to undulate. I know now that this is bipolar. There's comfort in naming the devil. He's a lot fucking easier to yell at and cast out when the motherfucker has a damn name.

And he messed with the wrong bitch.

{Disclaimer: I reiterate, I am NOT suicidal. I am just rambling. Something I sort of do. If anything, this is some dark humor up in here. Please don't send the cops to my house and destroy my family's damn day over a blog post.}