Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead. Or at least I convinced the shrink to take me off that nasty Trileptal and he agreed, though he was going for the increased dose bit and I shut him down. My kid was a perfect angel, quiet, played on her LeapPad, making me look like a drama queen liar declaring herself the mother of devil spawn yet showing up with an angel. Bloody hell, that kid lives to troll me. But I was grateful.
I took out my papers. He didn’t show any interest in seeing them. I made a good case. He raised my Xanax by 0.5, which is a relief. Everything else stays the same. I see him again in a month, by which time he’ll determine if the Cymbalta stays or goes. The issue of Lithium was tossed out and I said, “I really, really don’t want to do that.” To which he said, “You really can’t control that.” Comforting for a control freak to be told one more thing out of her control.
I told him,as he referenced my many med failures again, that I felt like he was giving up on me and not taking me seriously. He assured me he does take me seriously, he is not giving up on me, and I am not his worst med resistant patient by a long shot. Honestly, I felt like he heard me out on some stuff. Other stuff, it was like he steered away or dismissed. Like side effects. The one thing we kind of need these professionals to understand are a major factor in us being compliant with the med treatment. I told him about how hazy I am and how I let my kid out looking like a rag muffin, that I am overwhelmed. Hopefully saying buh bye to the Trileptal will help. If this haze is my new state of being, I may as well give up now. This is ass trash.
Today has been unmotivated feel shitty do nothing day. I haven’t showered in two days. I just now dry shaved my legs for the first time in a week. I did do dishes last night, then I had no energy to cook supper for myself. Not that it matters as I gained a ton of weight since my last appointment and my give a fuck has left the building. I don’t eat that much, liquids are my problem. I’ve cut down soda intake but started guzzling sweet tea. Whatever. I’m too broken to care how I look anyway. I even took in pictures of myself during stable periods to show the doctor that what he’s seeing now…is not me. I mean, I haven’t dyed my hair in months so my gray roots are in your face and I have the dye…Just not give a damn. I think about doing it. Just can’t make it happen.
Kind of like how making my kid a Nutella sandwich without crust seems as taxing as climbing a mountain. I don’t even know what this is. Every time I think I’ve seen the rock bottom of the mental illness spectrum, I find myself in an even worse mind state. All the med changes and bad reactions over four months probably has my wiring more fucked up. Feels hopeless at this moment. I know I’m just “hungover” from all the time in the dish with the doctor appointments and dealing with R. Yes, it’s a thing, hangovers from dealing with the dish of petri. It takes too many sporks. Leading to a sporkless day like today where I lolled in bed, awake, but shielding my aching head from light while my kid bounced around me with her Elsa doll that shrieks that godforsaken chorus from “Let it go.” Yes, mommy needs no light and low noise, so let’s get this doll with no volume button in her face and wonder why she’s grumpy.
Though I’m starting to wonder if grumpy has become my default setting. Guess the next four weeks will tell. Get the trileptal gone for good, keep doing the split Cymbalta thing, take Xanax more regularly now that I can do it without feeling like a druggie abusing them. All I can do is muddle through. I even voiced my concerns to him yesterday about the seasonal affect thing and he said we wouldn’t let it get that bad, we’d do something preemptive. He tossed out Wellbutrin since it allegedly helps seasonal depression, and I think I was on it once before but it made me too groggy. I dunno. It was one of the better appointments, least I didn’t walk out wishing he’d get hit by a bus full of Juggalos.
I am contemplating cooking myself a decent supper. I’m still not feeling it. My head still hurts. But hey, my kid has actually been turned down to four today. That always helps. And it occurs to me…I’m nearly four weeks done with summer vacation and she hasn’t driven me to the Rubber Ramada yet. Little victories.
In other news…Juju popped out five kittens during the night. Two of them are bobtails like Voodoo. And she seems to be taking to the first time mom thing okay. Unlike Nightshade who has had five litters, no fewer than four a pop, and only two of hers have survived because she is a shit mother. One would think the newbie kitties would have me higher than a kite since they’re like heroin for me. The fact I can’t even work up some joy and just keep thinking, fuck, more mouths to feed and find homes for. Not pessimism, just so overwhelmed.
So…no more evil trileptal. More Xanax. Four weeks to straighten out and see if this current regime will take. I’d do about anything to avoid Lithium. All the blood work does me in, can’t stand going to the hospital for the blood draws. Needles don’t bother me, it’s all the people. Icky. And it’s not that I am anti social. I just can’t handle too much people contact, the cost is too high for me.
Sad thing is, I’ve been in this dark mind space so long, I want to go off all meds just to spark a manic episode and FEEL something positive. I won’t do it, but damn, I want to. I hate feeling so apathetic, so numb, so dead.
Shit. Just occurred to me today is R’s birthday and I didn’t even text him. Meh. He doesn’t do that for my birthday. You get what you give with me. Besides, it’s not like I want to engage with others even minimally today, I just feel socially obligated.
Damn social programming is the bane of my existence.