Four days into Lithium and I can feel a difference. It sounds nuts, and maybe it is, but I am no longer this emotional livewire, jumping to offense, choking on hatred because people suck, feeling fragile and defensive.
I am…well, if you remove the anxiety, I am a deadwire. Distant from the turmoil inside, numb to what just last week was festering under my skin. Aside from tearing up watching the end of “Pay it Forward”, the chaos that lives inside me and churns constantly feels slightly more controlled.
And as I come off of Cymbalta I have little doubt this controlled deadwire space will not stick.
The anxiety has already erupted like the Mt Vesuvius of disorders, an allergen that does not respond to anti histamines, this churning broiling bubbling boiling intensity of nerve endings on fire beneath my skin. Every time I hear a siren, I swear it’;s a firetruck going to my burning home. I see a cop car, it must be coming for me, even though I haven’t so much as jaywalked in the last ten years. My ear itches and suddenly the old superstition becomes this etched in stone “people are talking about me, plotting against me” thing. Someone waves at me and it’s “What are they staring at? Do I have something hanging out of my nose?” It never fails that if one aspect comes under control, the other goes out into the stratosphere.
Things at home have returned to normal. Suddenly the kids whose mother said they couldn’t be here are back, along with the usual suspects..I guess it depends on how bad they want their kids to go away, the willingness to believe rumors and lies. I could do without all this noise and fussing but it’s sort of a relief because the scumbag brain has been beating me up mercilessly over my social cursedness impacting my kid badly.
I just want a cool shower, a warm meal, and to curl up.
She starts pre-k tomorrow.
I am anxious simply because I have no idea where I am supposed to take her. Class room three, well, never having been there, it’s not telling me much. It’s her first day, but I’m the one who is having panic attacks. Very definition of narcissism, making it about me.
Well, technically I didn’t chose to, the stupid anxiety disorder just swooped in and dictated “This is new and uncharted territory, it is scary YOU MUST FREAK OUT NOW NOW NOW!”
It’s only 4:30 pm.
Today has seemed interminably long.
Not a horrid day. Nothing major.
Just cramps and backache from hell and no slack being cut in any fashion.
At least at the end of it all…There’s bedtime.
And that hasn’t been much consolation lately because my kid isn’t sleeping through the night.
I used to say I’ll sleep when I am dead.
Now it’s like I am the walking dead and I still can’t get any sleep.
Be too easy to pop Trazadone every night.
I may have to tonight, the pre-k jitters and all.
God, I am pathetic.