Tag Archives: Happy Pills

Back in the Saddle

15 Jun

So I know I’ve been away for a bit. Things are their usual insanity, but the truth is I’ve been going through some stuff.

I spoke about it here quite a bit lately – postpartum anxiety. I’ve been treating it with Xan.ax. But the truth is, like I wrote here in the past part of my way of dealing is taking care of Bunny with a bit of emotional detachment.

I wasn’t liking it. And it was starting to bleed into my other relationships. I was getting more detached for longer periods of time. Finally, Shmerson said that he thought it was time I check in with my therapist. So what if I don’t have the time. I need to MAKE the time.

So off I went, and it was truly a wake up call. I don’t want to go into it here, but the long and short of it is that 20 minutes into the session she said she thought it was time I get back on anti-depressants.

I credit cym.balta with saving my life. I also credit it with a huge chunk of my weight gain, and with obliterating my sex drive completely (though 3 miscarriages and a stillbirth obviously did their part to contribute).

But the fact is she was right. Sure I am super-functional right now. But overly so. I’m functioning so much I’m forgetting about living. I function to deal with things. I keep myself so busy I don’t have a moment to think or reflect.

And the moment I did – at my therapists office – I had my first panic attack in months.

Don’t get me wrong, things are truly very very good. It’s just in moments of quiet, anxiety sneaks in. When I’m alone with Bunny, if I’m 100% connected to her, I get overwhelmed and can’t deal.

That’s not good for me, and that’s not good for her.

It’s partly emotional, yes. But the truth is that when I step back and examine it, a lot of it is chemical.

I left my therapist’s office, called my psychiatrist to make an appointment, and called Shmerson to break the news that I most likely have to get back on my meds.

He was of course super supportive, but also a little sad. He was hoping we were past this. He was hoping things were good enough that I wouldn’t need meds.

In the week that followed, the realization that I had spent the last couple of months basically repressing everything brought a lot of things back up to the surface. I had more trouble sleeping. I felt more anxiety. My eating was back to being out of control.

At my psychiatrist’s I told him what was going on. He actually wasn’t incredibly concerned. He gave me two options: Go on a very low dose of cym.balta or just continue dealing with things on my own.

I was truly debating what to do. I hated the decreased sex drive and how hard it was to get off of these pills once you start taking them. I told him that my big concern was that cym.balta made me feel like the volume on my feelings was turned down very low. Like I was always not 100% present.

He answered: Well, that’s how you’re dealing now, isn’t it? You’re making yourself emotionally detached in order to deal with your anxiety. This will do the same, only in a more controlled way, and without you having to work so hard.

I asked him what he thought I should do. He said he could go either way. It was up to me.

So I thought of Bunny.

And I thought of the fact that 90% present is better than o% present.

And I realized that I’ve never taken meds when I wasn’t in crisis mode. That maybe- just maybe – they can help me get to contentment, and not just survive the latest trauma.

Maybe they would let me enjoy my daughter more. And free up the energy I’ve been using to try to control my anxiety to be used in healthier, happier ways.

And worst-case scenario: If I don’t like it, I can stop.

So I did it. I bit the bullet.

On Friday, I took the first pill.

Now it’s two weeks of fuzzy brain while I adjust to the pills again.

And we’ll see where we go from here. We’ll see if a chemical helping hand will be what it takes to tip the scales over to contentment.

Wish me luck.

 

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Fertile World Problems

17 Jul

So today I saw my psychiatrist for the first time since going on bed rest. I made the appointment now in order to get things squared away in case I have to deal with postpartum depression (PPD), which I’m at VERY high risk for. I wanted to make sure that in case of a med switch, we had plenty of time to pull it off.

I left the appointment practically in tears.

So here’s the deal:

I’ve been on a drug called zy.prexa for the last 4 months. It was a good interim solution because it can handle high-anxiety situations as well as curb depression. Though it’s not usually prescribed for depression and anxiety, it’s known to work for people who are SSRI-resistant (or in other words people who the usual happy pills don’t work on – like me).

So I walk into the shrink’s office and pretty much the first thing I tell him is that I have GD. Immediately he says that it could very well have been caused by the zy.prexa. I knew that weight gain was a side effect (knew that all too well, thank-you-very-much), but I had no idea it could affect my blood sugar. He told me that he wanted me to stop the pill immediately, and manage through the rest of the pregnancy with the occasional xan.ax (ok during the third trimester as long as I don’t take any after week 38), and that’s it. The zy.prexa has too much potential to do harm.

He also said that he would recommend I never take the pill again because he’s afraid of the long-term risks for my health, and that it may cause diabetes for me in the long run if I continue to take it.

I have to say I was a bit relieved. I don’t regret taking the pill – it helped me keep my shit together, and if GD is a side effect of that, so be it, but I’m glad to know that there’s a chance my blood sugar will even out more now that I’m going off the pill. And there’s no way of knowing if the pill caused the GD or is just not helping a set situation. Either way I can see an upside to both having been on it, and now going off of it.

Then came the bombshell:

Shrink: “So after you give birth, I want you to breastfeed for a week, then we’ll put you back on a low dose of cym.balta”.

Me: “Ok… Wait… What do you mean breastfeed for a week?”

Shrink: “There’s not enough research out there about cym.balta. You shouldn’t breastfeed while you’re on it.”

Me: “WHAT?”

There was a continual back-and-forth about this but basically the conclusion is this:

I can wait it out to see if PPD hits before I start taking the pill (about three weeks after giving birth), but if I do get PPD, I have no choice but to stop breastfeeding immediately because I would never risk it with cym.balta in my system. I can’t get another pill because me and SSRI’s (zo.loft, pa.xil and the like) are NOT friends at all, and zy.prexa is too big of a risk, so I’m stuck with this one form of happy pill, and I can’t do anything about it.

The fact is that there’s a pretty decent chance I’ll get PPD. I have practically every risk factor in the book between my losses and my history of depression. And if I get PPD, of course it needs to be treated, which means I won’t be able to breastfeed. So now here’s yet another thing taken away from me, and I fucking hate it.

Look – I joked that if breastfeeding doesn’t come easily to me I’ll happily use cym.balta as an excuse to stop. But I have a feeling that may not be the case. What if I love it? How can I give it up if it comes naturally to me and B5?

When I called Shmerson and told him the verdict he pointed out that these are first world problems. That six months ago I would have killed to be in a discussion about the risks of breastfeeding while on SNRI’s.

And he’s right, but right now it doesn’t make this hurt any less.

All I can do now is hope that by some miracle I don’t get PPD. But realistically I know that chances of that are close to nil.

So yes, this is a “fertile world problem”. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to cry my eyes out over it. So excuse me while I go do that.

The Three F’s

15 Mar

First of all – how awesome is my new header? It’s all Court’s doing.

All I told her was – “I want something that’s whimsical but not TTC related. Oh, and a bunny! And butterflies! I love butterflies! And purple!”

Boom! A few days later, I get the best. Header. Ever. In my email.

Court, you rock harder than pre-reality-show Ozzy Osbourne.

Also, I’ve bitten the bullet and registered mommyodyssey.com. My old blog URL still works, but feel free to update your links if you feel like it.

I’m still tinkering with the new design a bit, so don’t be afraid to tear me a new one in the comments, and things may be a bit wonky for a few days. Sorry.

In other news, you may have noticed that Eggs in a Row is down. Mel mentioned it on LFCA but just in case you didn’t get the news there, know that Rachel is fine. There was just some dramz, which she will probably tell you all about when her new blog launches. I’ll give you details of that when the time comes.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog post.

First, I wanted to thank you all once again for your emails, your comments, your tweets, and your *insert modern communication method here*s.

The love I’ve felt from all of you has literally helped me stay sane through all of this, and I am forever grateful I know I keep saying “thank you.” But thank you isn’t enough. So I’ll just keep saying it:

Thank you.

****

Over the last few weeks a theme has been emerging with my friends and family, and with you, my bloggy buddies.

Everybody keeps on telling me how strong I am. Which for me is kind of mind-blowing. I mean sure, I’ve managed some pretty amazing posts to honor my son on here, but that’s all him. And yes, I’ve gone back to work. But strong? I do not call 5 hour crying fits that happen once every 2 or 3 days on average strong.

Then I look around and realize that I guess the fact that I started working again 8 days after it happened is kind of impressive. And the fact that I actually manage to put together coherent sentences on a regular basis isn’t half bad either.

Considering the fact that a month ago – when Nadav was still doing the tango in my uterus, I was sure that if something happened to him I’d ask to be put into a medically induced coma forever, and yet here I am – well, I guess you can call that strong (was that not the longest run-on sentence ever? AK – you must now take stroke-prevention measures).

But the fact is I’m not strong, I’m strengthened. It wasn’t only Nadav’s Lessons that gave me strength, it was what I call the three F’s:

Family, Friends, and Farmaceuticals.

(Shut up spellcheck! I’m trying to make a funny through alliteration! I’m such a dork.)

One of the first things I did after getting out of the hospital was to head to Dr. Happy Pills. Apart from upping my anti-depressants, and renewing my script for Xan.ax, he also gave me a prescription for what he described as a “10-pound hammer”, for days when things were particularly hard. That hammer helped a lot when things became unbearable. I’m happy to say that I have barely used it since that first week, and that’s due to:

Friends and family.

My mom came over every day, and each day we took on a new “project.” Finding vases so I’d have a place to put all of the flowers I was getting. Choosing wallpaper to put the finishing touches on our home. Making the empty room into a functioning guest room, because no room should really be empty. Getting me paint supplies.

Each day I was dragged out of the house for some retail therapy with some sort of mission in mind. Sure, it wasn’t cheap, but it saved me.

Then there were (and are) my friends. Who came to visit, who kept me busy. Who called to check in, who let me talk when I needed to, and distracted me when I didn’t want to talk. They (you) continue to remind me that my life is full of love, despite my loss.

And of course, there’s Shmerson (who doesn’t start with an F so I put him in the “Family” category to keep my alliteration intact). He keeps telling me each day that I’m beautiful. When I curse at my body he reminds me of how amazing it is. He keeps it together when I break down. That continues to amaze me.

And the best part? The man has a serious knack for morbid humor. It’s tactless, it’s horrific, it’s offensive, and it makes me laugh my ass off. My favorite one was from a few days after we got home from the hospital. Squish came over and we ordered sushi.

Shmerson: Good thing you didn’t eat any sushi while you were pregnant, things really could have gone wrong.

I know. Gasp! That’s an awful thing to say!

Don’t care. It’s funny as hell.

Oh – BTW, Shmerson has been reading all of your comments and emails as well. He even opened a twitter account in English just for you guys. You should totally follow him. He’s hilarious.

So yeah. I guess I’m strong. But it’s the people who surround me (with a little help from my happy-pill friends), who make me that way.

What a Difference A Month Makes

31 Aug

Well, a month and apparently a change of happy pills.

My shrink came back from a month long vacation, and today was our first session since before the lap. So much has happened in the last month. For a second there, I just sat trying to figure out where the hell to start. And I started here, with that video diary from almost a decade ago. Telling her about it and about the revelations it has lead to took up the entire hour. I started to see how that moment was a turning point. It was the place where I started to truly accept my situation. I’m not sure if I would say “embrace”. But accept. Understand that this is where I am, and start to be ok with that.

I feel like the last month has brought on revelation after revelation. Change after change.

I sit here today thinking about the place I was a little less than a month ago. Freaking out about the lap, grasping at straws of control, and I realize how far I’ve come and how much easier things have become, despite that fact that in general things are “supposed to be” more difficult now because of all of the craziness in our life right now.

It’s nothing tangible. I just feel – well – better. Not amazing. Not high. Not unbelievable. But I’m ok. And you know what? I think that’s pretty cool.

And yes, I do think the cym.balta has something to do with it too. It’s working. I know it is. And that’s pretty cool too.

Buzz Buzz Buzz

24 Aug

This is a bullet point post. I do this not because I am lazy (well mostly not). I do this because, in the immortal words of someone: Heady-explodey. Today has been one of those days that I wish I had a pensieve. Stupid me being a stupid muggle. Ahh well.

So – it’s a list. I like lists. You like lists. Sometimes. I’m rambling. I’m tired. Buzz buzz. Here we go:

  • Thank you all for your comments on yesterday’s post. I think we’re gonna go the try try again route. I don’t think I’ll regret this in the long run. The fact is, that there simply isn’t enough info about my past losses. If we have a fourth (FSM forbid), then we will either know it’s an ectopic and take out Ole’ Righty, and then go for IVF, or we’ll have more info and then go blow the $300 bucks. For now, just like the Russian said, we’ve done all that we can outside of experimental treatments. RPL is a biyatch.
  • So now I really want to try again. Like, NOW. And Shmerson is concerned that I’ll go batshit just like I did last time. He keeps on saying (and he is right) that I can’t just spend my time wishing for a baby, because if that’s where all of my energy is, I will have an inevitable crash once we do get our little one. I know he’s right. And I’m really making an effort to work on me a bit more. I don’t THINK I’ll freak out as much as I did last time. But I’m not sure.
  • On the other hand I hear the tick-tock. My cycles are gradually getting longer and I’m ovulating later. I know what this means – my PCOS is kicking in and it’s only a matter of time before I stop ovulating again. In fact, the Russian said that if we don’t get preggo within the next few months then we should start considering Clomid. So yeah – tick tock tick tock.
  • I also kind of feel like if we’re going to have a fourth loss, I just kind of want to get it over with. I don’t know if it’s healthy, but it’s how I feel.
  • I’m just afraid that I want this for all the wrong reasons. And in my crazy buzz-addled brain I keep thinking that the reason for my three losses is because we jumped in for the “wrong reasons”. Urgh. This is stupid. Luckily we have about a week and a half or so before a follie pops so we don’t have to decide yet. In fact, I’m thinking that we shouldn’t decided. Just kinda do it and see what happens (though knowing me I’ll still be using pee sticks like there’s no tomorrow).
  • Enough of the TTC stuff. Moving on:
  • I’m going to Dr. Happy Pills tomorrow, and insisting on changing my meds. They work, in that I’m better than I was after my brain broke back in November, but I feel like they’re band aids, and are not doing what they’re supposed to. He insisted on zoloft, which helps with the depression (most of the time) but causes increased anxiety. So he added xanax. Then the zoloft pooped out (it was a low dosage) so he upped it. Then I started having trouble sleeping, so he added ativan to the cocktail. Now I’m tired. All the time. And I feel completely unproductive 90% of the time, and anti-social. I think it’s time to wave bye bye to Zoloft. I don’t know what we’ll do though, since very few anti-depressants are ok with the preggo. And I assume I will eventually be preggo and I’d rather not be preggo and in happy pill withdrawal. Lexapro was a complete bust when we tried it. Now I have no idea what to do. I’m afraid to go off them completely because of the brain breaking thing, which was no fun. I like my brain unbroken thank you very much. Even if it makes things a little hazy. Urgh. We’ll see what he says tomorrow.
  • Bleeding Tulip has a great post about decision fatigue up on her blog. It has made me realize that I suffer from a new disease that I have just invented: Chronic Decision Fatigue Syndrome. I think I want to do something about that. No clue what, but there ya go.
  • I no longer fit properly into any of my jeans. This is a bad thing. Muffin tops abide and they must be destroyed. Something needs to be done about it. I’ve started by taking a page out of WWH‘s book and making low fat breakfast smoothies. Non-fat yogurt, with fruit, agave syrup, and spinach. Yes, spinach. You can’t taste it and it has vitamins and stuff. Today, I had one at 10am and wasn’t hungry again until 2pm. And even then, I wasn’t THAT hungry. I think this may be good. We’ll see.
  • I want to go back to yoga. But again, i can’t seem to get my ass off the couch. I hope some form of new happy pill will help with the getting off of the couch thing. That would be good.
  • I have now officially started playing “find the infertile” on every single reality show I watch. Married? Over thirty and no kids? Infertile. Looks over 40 and has a 2 year old? Infertile. Puts her children in beauty pageants that include fake tans? Well – that’s just crazy. Nothing to do with being infertile. Just putting it out there.
  • I think that’s enough of my buzz buzz for one night. But I’m throwing in a cute bunny for good measure. Note: I do not own bunnies. That’s Marie‘s department. And hers have magical psychic powers and jump up and down to answer my big existential questions (well I’m actually not sure about that, but I take her word for it because a) it funnies me and b) I have no visual proof to the contrary).

One of Marie’s bunnies telling me that everything will be ok. Artist’s rendering. Not to scale.

  • However, I do find bunnies unbelievably cute and they make me smile. So here are two more bunnies. In cups:



Random Ramblings

9 Feb

I’m hella-tired. It has been a long few days (the fam business is in chaos mode because of a deadline so it’s been crazy. luckily now that my dad and I are getting along it’s much more bearable than it used to be). But all around, brain fried, heady-explodey.

So – I will be completely not funny, not eloquent, and perhaps even not interesting in this post (really makes you want to keep on reading, doesn’t it?)

* I’m waiting till the weekend to pair up all the choco-buddies. I just want to amass enough so that the pairings make sense. Also – people have been commenting that the button doesn’t work. Anyone out there want to give me a hand on how to fix the code in there? Me too tired to google. Me confuzzled.

* I hate databases. It’s kind of insane that I’ve been trained at “the finest” film schools in the world and I spend most of my day on excel spreadsheets. No wonder I don’t have the energy to write.

*No – I didn’t watch “go” today. Bad me! Bad bad me! But I will forgive myself because it’s currently past midnight on my side of the globe and I have been up and working since 8am. Only watching stupid stuff in the background while dealing with what feels like a million spreadsheets. Excel – I don’t like you very much.

* I’ve had to cancel lunch with my mom twice this week already – we re-scheduled again for tomorrow. I’m working late on purpose now so that hopefully I can actually make it this time (the pros and cons of working from home).

*I’m really bitching about work a lot right now, aren’t I?

* on a different note – I haven’t officially announced this yet – but starting next week I will be teaching film! Once a week, tenth grade. I’m really excited! :-) I’ve got a bunch of lessons planned out in my head. Now if I could find time to write those out as well… (this is me in over-achievement mode again. anyone feel like helping me sort out my priorities?)

* My cousin, who works in alternative medicine, called today to recommend an acupuncturist in my area. Knowing there is no way Shmerson and I can afford it, I told her that I’d get the number from her “when things are a bit less crazy”. Being the amazing lady that she is, I think she read the undertone of “holy crap I can’t afford this” in my voice, immediately called my mom, who immediately called me and insisted that she will pay for the treatments. That is incredibly sweet of her. I know a bunch of you ladies are riding the needle train. Any advice?

* Have you guys noticed a change in my tone over the last week or so? I didn’t mention this for some reason but last week my shrink adjusted my meds (again!) because he thought the zoloft was too much. We switched around to 2 Xanax XR’s a day and half a pill of zoloft and it seems to be working like a charm. I feel wonderful and incredibly balanced. I’m really glad I found a shrink who knows how to “fine tune” these kinds of things (some have a tendancy to just prescribe one pill, then another to balance the first, then a third, and sometimes a fourth. I’m glad I trusted him enough to stick to his plan). I really feel like I’m almost back to my old self. At least closer to her than I’ve been in years.

I am however really worried about the xanax. I’ve heard a bunch of horror stories about how it can be addictive. My shrink says that most of them are BS and the people who get addicted to it use it recreationally and not to treat an actual condition, so he’s not really worried about that. The one thing that I’m a bit concerned about is that xanax and pregnancy do not mix. He said that no matter what, it’s been proven safe in the first trimester, and once I’m preggo we can find alternatives. But for some reason I’m still apprehensive about this. I do trust him completely because he is very respectful of my concerns – I guess I’m just paranoid (two miscarriages will do that to you, I suppose).

* Our house is a complete and utter disaster zone. Shmerson has been working and studying like mad for the last two weeks since he’s got a bunch of exams, and I haven’t had time to do anything, and when I did I was too busy writhing in pain from that stupid back thing (which is almost gone, thank goodness). I wish we could afford a maid. I feel like such a slob right now. And for those of you reading who know what our place usually looks like – it’s ten times worse right now. I would upload a pic, but I can’t stand the shame of it. No gold star for us this week.

* I miss yoga. Because of my back I couldn’t go all last week, and this week it’s stupid stupid work. I will go tomorrow. I must go tomorrow.

* Things have been moving in a really great direction really fast over the last couple of weeks. From the teaching job, to settling on my next writing project, to, well, everything. The downside? I tend to take on too much at once, and I’m afraid I may be doing that again. Note to self: Make a couple of lists, get your schedule settled, and for goodness sake, clean the house! The good news is that unlike in the past – I am actually AWARE of this stuff and trying to get it under  control. Progress!

* For some reason AF is making my appetite INSANE. And I keep on buying oreos, and then having oreos and milk like, three times a day. This is a first in terms of AF, usually I go for burgers. Weird. Maybe I should just stop buying the oreos? Yes, that would be a good idea.

* did I mention how much I hate excel spreadsheets?

* Ok I’m done now

* ramble ramble ramble

* Really done now. Sleepy-time for me!

I came out of the pill closet today

29 Jan

So – I did it. At dinner tonight I told my father that I’m on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds.

Not only that – I told him that I hate that I have a boss and not a father. And I hate working for him, and that I wish he would be easier on me, because I know that I do a better job than he would be doing instead of me (I have no idea where I found the guts for any of this).

Then the man surprised me beyond my wildest dreams. Keep in mind – my father is a control-freak, sometimes bully, and chronic anxiety and depression sufferer who doesn’t believe in medication or psychology.

First – he actually was curious about the meds. He asked me about the side effects, about how they were working for me, etc. I saw a flash of curiosity and even jealousy in his eyes – no judgement. I almost feel like if he sees me doing so well, then maybe he’ll consider taking care of himself a bit too. That makes me happy and hopeful. I also think that hearing about them disarmed him and opened him up to listening to the rest of it.

Second – he took every bit of criticism I threw at him. And he agreed with it. And he apologized. He asked me to stay on until the end of march to see where one of our new projects goes, and if at the end of march I decide to leave, he will accept it completely. I can totally live with that.

PLUS – I told him that this would happen on my terms. Which means that I will from now on be completely honest with him (it turns out he mistook my emotional breakdown for laziness, and he actually was in shock that I hid it from him so well, and kind of saddened by it as well), and he will make an extra effort to keep the yelling at bay.

Wow. I guess it was just something in the air tonight. I’ve never been able to speak to my dad so openly and honestly. And he took it, accepted it. And most importantly he told me that he loves me, he’s sorry, and he wants his daughter back.

Well – I think he’s got her.

Wow.

Conversations with my therapist

26 Jan

I walk in today, still feeling down, still unsure of everything.

Me: I’m so confused. I met with a head hunter and she told me what my potential income would be for a full time job, and for freelance and part time, and basically said that in terms of where we live, I have to take into consideration at least a 40 minute commute because there’s nothing in the area.

Her: Ok

Me: And I had a meeting at that community center, and they love me and want me to teach there, but they’re not sure whether they have space for me this year. I’ll know next week. Either way the salary is crap.

Her: Ok.

Me: And I figured out that the best way to move forward in terms of getting a film off the ground is to go for this grant along with the guy who wrote “make-up” with me – because I think it would be good to have the safety net of a writing partner and it just makes sense.

Her: Ok. So what’s wrong?

Me: I’m freaking out! I’m depressed! I don’t know what I want! I don’t know anything!

Her: *laughs*

Me: What’s so funny?

Her: You actually know quite a bit.

Me: Huh?

Her: You’ve just spent 10 minutes giving me your current options, with real, concrete explanations. This is the first time you’ve ever done that. There was no fantasy – just real steps to getting somewhere.

Me: Really?

Her: Really.

Me: huh. But I don’t know! I can’t make a decision! I’m so scared!

Her: What scares you?

Me: *15 minute rant in which I list everything I’ve ever been afraid of* Oh, and I’m going to die.

Her: None of this stuff has happened to you.

Me: I know. I tell that to myself. And then I get around it by telling myself that whatever happens I’m going to die eventually. ***

Her: Well, making decisions isn’t going to kill you.

Me: I know it’s not rational, but this is what I tell myself and then I start having an anxiety attack.

Her: (keep in mind that this woman rarely says more than three sentences per session – so this was mind blowing) You know what I think? I think that this thought is actually your insecurity  - your fear of living. Every time you stick your head out the door – that thought sneaks up and goes “Boo! get back into that dark room!” Every single time. Because you don’t have faith in yourself. You know how last week we spent the entire session talking about make-up? Well, guess what? I didn’t need to talk about make up. You did. I saw make up. I know what you’re worth and it’s a heck of a lot. And it’s not just in movies. You’re smart, you’re talented in so many ways, and yet you cling to other people telling you this rather than believing it yourself. So every time you peak your head out the door that little thought sneaks up on you and says “Boo! You’re not good enough! Get back in the corner!” And you listen. You just need to realize how wonderful you are, and maybe that thought won’t sneak up on you as often.

Me: *head explodes*

Me: *miraculously does not have a panic attack during this entire conversation*

Me: But I’m scared. I’m scared that if I’m happy I’ll die.

Her: I promise you you are no more likely to die than the rest of us.

Me: *bawling. still no panic attack*

Holy jeez guys – I think the zoloft is starting to work. (not to mention that my therapist is a brilliant and amazing lady)

 

***this is the first time I’ve voiced this in writing, and maybe only the third time I’ve expressed it out loud in any way.Simply writing it out is making me anxious. But no panic attack, so progress!

Dear website, thanks for being so understanding

20 Jan

So the upped zoloft dosage has been wreaking havoc on my moods and anxiety over the last few days. And for those of you who know me – this of course meant that I spent the better part of the last 72 hours being a google-maniac.

But this time – I found salvation! Hallelujah internet machine! You have come through at last.

I know a couple of you dear readers are on the happy-pills train as well, so I really want to recommend Crazy Meds.

This site is brilliant! Seriously!

It is a mecca of information – especially built for the obsessive googler who makes mountains out of molehills.

It lists side effects, but puts them in perspective. It takes whatever pill you’ve been prescribed and breaks down the pros and cons in a healthy, non-anxiety inducing way. Plus, there’s a forum where people to share their experiences and ask questions.

Of course, I posted my over-analyzing anxious rantings and within a day people who had been through similar stuff answered and helped me calm the heck down.

In short – Me Likey.

The inter-webs are apparently good to me as of late. :-)

Daddy Issues

4 Jan

My dad is majorly fucked up.

I mean, I love him to bits – but the man has issues.

I think I’ve figured out why I want to leave the business so badly.

My father suffers from anxiety. He has his whole life, and he is very much open about it with me because he recognized the signs on me fairly early on.

But thank the big spaghetti monster in the sky for making me into a woman and giving me the mother that i have – otherwise I would be stuck in the same loop he is in.

My dad once told me that at the age of 30 he had a huge crisis, made a change, and hasn’t looked back since.

Familiar, right?

Here’s the kicker – and I honestly believe this. When I broke down I basically had two choices:

1) I work up the strength and the courage to face up to my problems and deal with them.

2) I say screw it all and detach myself emotionally completely.

I chose the former.

I honestly believe that at the age of thirty my father chose the latter.

My father is truly a genius. He has amazing ideas. So much so that I admit I’m often jealous of them.

On the other hand, since the day I was born my father has been a millionaire four times (I believe that’s the current count), and has been broke four times. That’s four times in thirty years. And I believe at least once more before I was born.

He builds things and then he tears them down. This is what he always does.

Being in the family business and finally getting some clarity – I realized that if I’m not careful he will drag me there right along with him.

My dad doesn’t believe in pills or therapy. He thinks they are bullshit (and that’s one of the many reasons he is the only member of my family that has NO CLUE about what’s going on with me right now).

He is incapable of self-reflection. When confronted with criticism, his usual response is to yell.

Sometimes he listens and acts accordingly, but most of the time, the man is a brick wall.

The funny thing is that now that I have some clarity I see how easily I could have gone down that path.

I honestly believe that my father does these things – well, everything really – from a place of fear, depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem.

I think he is so scared of confronting his own shortcomings, mistakes, and feelings that he retreats into the macho yelling.

I think he destroys every wonderful thing that he creates from the same place that I was discussing the other day. Fear of true happiness.

I think that he believes that facing up to those emotions will literally kill him.

For example – he can’t deal with me crying. He usually yells.

When he’s sick – he becomes impossible to deal with.

When he’s stressed – he’s a nightmare. He spends days on end in bed depressed, and when not in bed – yelling and driving my mother (and these days me as well) up the wall.

He destroys what he can no longer handle and rebuilds from a place of fear. He has no concept of building on what he has already created. The result is a constant state of running and instability. A constant state of crisis – even when things are good (sound familiar?).

I sometimes wish I could slip him a xanax. Seriously.

However, I do have a plan.

After I give my notice (a plan is forming and will most likely be executed in the next few days), and put up with what I’m assuming will be several weeks of yelling, I have a little fantasy that I hope happens. I would like to share this fantasy with you, dear readers.

My dad and I are sitting on my parent’s porch having a heart to heart (rare but wonderful when they happen).

Dad: You know – you seem a heck of a lot calmer, happier and together in the last few months.

Me: Yep. Thank you. Do you want to know why?

Dad: sure.

I pull out my packet of zoloft, hold it out like a spokesmodel, and smile.

Man I hope that day will come.

I honestly believe that my father is – at his core – a loving and sensitive man. If he would just let himself stop for one second and confront the constant anxiety loop in his mind, I believe that he would become a much better man, father, and husband.

I honestly and truly hope that for him. But until that happens – I will not let myself go down with the ship!

Honey – is it normal to just – listen to the radio?

28 Dec

Hi there Zoloft!

Thanks for kicking in. Took you a while.

The hubby and I were driving to tel aviv today. At one point I asked him – well, you can tell from the title of this post what I asked him.

Hubby: What?

Me: You know – like, sometimes, is it normal to just sit and listen to what people on the radio are saying and not think of other things at the same time as you’re listening to them?

Hubby: Um, yeah….

Hi me! Welcome to normal.

I described it to a friend of mine today. It’s as if for 13 years (!) someone has been telling me that the sky is green, and one day I just stick my head out the window and open my eyes and the sky is… blue.

Mind you, being the control freak that I am – I didn’t completely embrace it. In fact, it freaked me out. Think about it like this – if for thirteen years you had a buzzing in your ear, it would become something that you’re used to. And perhaps – when that buzzing disappeared, you’d think something went wrong with your hearing.

IT IS SO FREAKIN’ WEIRD!!

I had a few moments where the anxiety was in the back of my mind (at this point purely the psychological type) and was telling me – panic attack! you should be having a panic attack!

And I admit it came close to it – but in the end, I was fine. I am fine so far.

I actually had fun today. For the first time since my honeymoon six months ago – I had fun.

I guess I just need to get used to this new normal.

Weird!

Is this hope or just the Xanax talking?

25 Dec

I’ve spent most of today with this unexplained sense of excitement. yesterday there was a bit of a breakthrough with one of my film projects, and tomorrow I’ve got the blood tests – so maybe things are starting to look up?

Or it could just be the xanax. This is why me no likey pharmaceuticals. We shall see.

And now: Decisions dilemmas and most of all – patience

17 Dec

There are no miracle cures. Xanax for a week, Zoloft for a year, reading endless harry potter books… whatever your drug it is not a solution. It’s a bridge.

I am in limbo.

I realize this.

There are moments in the day where all I want to do is jump right in and try to have a baby again. and now!

there are moments in the day when I just want to get my $h*t together and make a damn movie already.

There are moments in the day when I just want to sit down and watch a rerun of “The Big Bang Theory” and eat some chocolate.

But I am trying something I have never tried before: patience.

I cannot make decisions in a day. I will make the decisions as needed, as they come, as I am ready to make them. And maybe I’ll update this little blog and tell you – anonymous non-reader out there, what they are.

But here’s the point – and this is just in case some woman out there is reading this. And she is in pain from losing a baby. Until this happens to you, you don’t realize how common it is.

And when you realize how common it is, it is still not a comfort. This devastates. This destroys. This breaks you into a million little pieces.

and I have no words of comfort. I am, myself, looking for words of hope and comfort and no matter what peoples’ intentions are, there really are none.

But I’m here. I’m writing this. And that’s a beginning.

We’ll see what’s next.

Chapter 14: bless you, xanax

17 Dec

And 14 posts in, we are up to yesterday. I go to the shrink, and he gives me this lovely little pill. And for the first time in months I feel calm.

It’s just for the next couple of weeks, until the Lustral/zoloft kicks in, but my god – clarity is a good thing. I am functioning, I can concentrate. I can eat again (which may or may not be a good thing!).

I keep on poking around in my mind looking for a panic attack. Sometimes I find the beginning of one. Sometimes I don’t, but that’s progress.

Yesterday I even managed to speak to my psychologist about being creative again.

You know – looking at this objectively dear reader, whomever you are, you may think I’m nuts. You may think it’s a cop-out to take pills to deal with my crap.

Heck – I feel that way sometimes.

But a friend once told me that pills are a bridge to help you step from darkness into the light. And lord knows, I need that bridge.

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