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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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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:



Happy Pills, Pee Sticks, Babies, Crazies and General Randomness

26 Jul

So – I am absolutely exhausted, but I figured it was time for an update. So pardon me for the bullet points, but this is all a random jumble.

  • I resisted POAS the last couple of days (thanks for everybody’s feedback, BTW!). Today I saw the coveted EWCM so I ended up doing it, just because it’s only CD 14 and I haven’t O’d this early since I started tracking. It was positive, but one of those half dark lines, so I’m not completely sure where that falls. Even if it counts as negative, it means I’m close. Which makes me really happy. First, because I have no idea what side I’m popping from which will make resisting baby making much easier, and second, I think the progesterone, as torturous as it was, did some good stuff for my cycle. We’ll see on what CD the red lady shows up. I’m curious.
  • Dr. Happy Pills changed around my dosage last week, and that’s doing good things as well. He added Ati.van to the mix, and upped my zo.loft. It makes me hella tired, which is good, because I’m actually going to bed before 4am most nights. Downside: I don’t get to skype as much with my ET/PT time friends (sorry Marie!). Upside: I’m actually conscious before noon most days, and functioning waaaay better.
  • My house has become a train station. Ever since we advertised the place as being for sale, my phone has been ringing off the hook and we have people here all hours of the day. I would restrict it, but I want to get this place sold. The sooner we sell it, the sooner we’re in our new place. And I want to be in our new place. It’s time I get to some serious nesting action.
  • I’m suffering from a serious case of Harry Potter withdrawal. I had spent the last couple of weeks writing that series of columns for keypulp, and now I’m in need of a fix. I’ll probably end up doing a review of the last film after all. As soon as I have time to breathe. Which I don’t right now.
  • I went to visit PM today and got to hold the little one for like half an hour as he slept. I think it was the most at peace I’ve felt in a very long time. I have a lot more to say about what I’m learning from her, but that’s for a longer, less rambly post. But in general, that kid is just so precious. I didn’t imagine I’d love him as much as I do. But I do. It’s not that I’m not a bit envious, because I am. But my awe and my love for PM and the kid completely overshadow that. I’m incredibly grateful. It’s teaching me a lot about this journey.
  • I’m looking for a full time job, outside of the house, because this whole work at home thing does not do good things for my psyche. So far, no luck, because there are very few content-driven companies in my city and I don’t want to commute. The funny thing is that the more I look for full time work, the more freelance jobs fall in my lap, plus a possible opportunity to actually get a feature film made just fell from the sky last week (I won’t talk about it more now – it’s still too early and the status of the project is up in the air, so I don’t want to jinx it). The Flying Spaghetti Monster has decided to lob meatballs at me or something. Things are WEIRD.
  • The thing is, this is the busiest I’ve been in MONTHS. As crazy as things are, I’m loving every minute, and it makes for a great distraction. I only find myself getting a case of the baby-crazies about once a day, which is NOTHING compared to a few weeks ago. There’s apparently something to this busy thing. I think I’m gonna keep going at it. Having a life – it’s not just for fertiles anymore!
  • Shmerson and I went in for karyotyping today. It will take a couple of months before we actually get results, but I’m happy we have one more test under our belt.
That’s about it. I’m going to bed, because I have yet another train station day tomorrow. Wed. is our lap consult, so I’ll update you guys with news on that. In the meantime, fare thee well. I am, to quote Shmerson: collapsedizing.

The List

24 Jun

Well, Shmerson came home for a blissful 10 hours. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were baked, shrimp and spinach basil Gnocchi was cooked, a couple of “deposits” were made happily, much cuddling was had, and now he’s gone for almost two weeks.

After the second “deposit” Shmerson and I gave my eggs and his swimmers a nice little talking to. We explained to his guys that they have to swim to the left, and they have to hang out for a while. We explained to little lefty that she needs to pop soon, and go down Ole’ Lefty to meet the swimmers. Hopefully they were listening.

I’m up against two torturous weeks now. I know saying the word “torturous” may be a bit melodramatic, but so be it. I HATE it when Shmerson’s away. I have a really hard time caring for myself when he’s not around – something that I know I need to change. I think if anything, that’s going to be my mission for these next two weeks, ignore the fact that I’m on my TWW and concentrate on things like actually cooking myself meals, meeting friends, cleaning the house, and getting some work done.

I went to Dr. Happy Pills today and he upped my zoloft dosage, because it’s been evident that right now it’s not completely doing the trick. Hopefully that will help me in this endeavor.

For now – I’m obsessively using OPK’s, hoping that Shmerson’s little guys survive until my follie decides to pop, and everything goes smoothly. Most of my regular readers know I like to make lists, so I’ve decided to share with you my list of things that need to go right for us to actually come out with a baby from this month. I’ve italicized milestones that we’ve never reached before for easy understanding, and because I’m cool and organized like that. Now – on to the list! Yay lists!

  1. Shmerson’s super swimmers need to survive until my follie pops.
  2. This means that my follie better pop in the next 24-48 hours.
  3. Little Lefty needs to go down Ole’ Lefty, and meet the swimmers, to create an actual embryo.
  4. Embryo needs to nestle in properly, in the uterus.
  5. Betas need to double properly.
  6. We need to see a heartbeat.
  7. We need to make it past 8 weeks.
  8. We need to make it to the second trimester
  9. We need the scans to show a healthy baby.
  10. We need the baby to hang out in my uterus hopefully for a full nine months. 
  11. The baby needs to come out healthy and whole. 
  12. I need to stay healthy and whole. 
I know there are plenty of other milestones on the way that I’ve missed. Right now I’m hoping we make it to number 4. Then I’ll hope to make it to 5. If we’re lucky, we’ll hit six and seven. Hopefully from there I’ll be able to breathe just a little bit.
I realized the other day that I’ve been pregnant 3 times, and I’ve never once seen a heartbeat. I hope I get to someday, and hopefully someday soon.
Sometimes I close my eyes and fantasize about what will happen when I finally go into labor one day. I imagine the nurse asking me which pregnancy this is for me. I’ll answer it’s the fourth. She’ll smile and tell me that I must be an old pro. I’ll tell her it’s my first child and make her squirm. For some reason I’ve been liking the idea of making others squirm lately. Don’t know why. I just hope that it really will be the fourth, and we won’t have to say 5th, 6th, 7th, and so on. I don’t know how much more strength I have for this.
But for right now all I can do is convince myself that Nachos for both lunch and dinner are not a healthy nutritional decision, and that staring at the second line on the OPK won’t magically make it darker.
That, at least, would be progress.

Housekeeping

2 May

Hi All,

So I think this is a new record for not posting – I mean, it’s been like two days! That hardly ever happens!

I’m just a bit out of it. And with good healthy reasons! So – here’s a quick update and after that I need your feedback!

So – I went to Dr. Happy Pills two days ago and switched from zoloft to lexapro. It was my decision to try it because I felt like zoloft was only doing half the job (as in dealing only with my depression and not doing as well with the anxiety), and now that we are on a forced TTC hiatus, I figured it was a good time to give lexapro a try. So I’ve spent the last couple of days kind of weird because of the med transition. I’m hoping things will even out in a week or so. This is the downside of happy pills – the adjustment period. Fortunately, since I’m already on one form of SSRI it won’t nearly be as bad as last time.

I had a weak moment yesterday and I actually smoked a cigarette. It was after spending an entire afternoon with my awesome nephew – but also surrounded with like – hundreds of other parents with their kids and I think it just became a bit much so I broke down after my brother dropped me off. But I haven’t really wanted one since so I’m just blaming the lexapro for now. I’m trying not to get too mad at myself. I mean – I’ve had a crappy couple of weeks. I deserve one moment of weakness, right? Right? (This is where you comment that you’re not mad and it’s ok that I had that one and your forgive me. K. Thanks)

There’s still one more thing I’m kind of dreading and that’s going back to yoga finally tomorrow and telling my instructor about what happened. He’s going to want to know why I’ve been gone for two weeks and of course I’m going to need to tell him. I know it’s not going to be fun. I kind of feel like I need to get past this already. And I kind of already am. I think. So I want to get all the “technicalities” over with.

Speaking of those – I’m down to very light spotting and I’m thinking of going in tomorrow for another beta. I’m not sure if I should wait until tuesday or even later just to be sure that they’ll be down to zero when I test – but again – I want to get this over with! I guess I’ll decide tomorrow when I wake up. I really want them down to zero already.

I don’t want you guys to misunderstand – I’m not completely down. I’ve been productive, I’ve been active, I’ve been leaving the house. I think that’s a huge accomplishment considering what’s been going on (the last time I couldn’t function for two months). I’m just – I guess I’m in a lexapro transition haze. Or in denial. Time will tell. (I’m also not trying to force myself to handle things in a certain way. I think that’s the best approach. I don’t know how I’m “supposed” to feel. So I’m just feeling what I’m feeling). Ahh well.

Now for a little blog housekeeping:

1) I have given Shmerson his own user on the blog. He’s now officially authorized to post without having to go through me. I just thought it was time. I know the muse is upon him sometimes so I figured why the hell not? So yes – you may see him around here a bit more often and slightly less censored (Ok – I don’t really censor him. Right? RIGHT?!?? Shmerson this is where you chime in in the comments and tell me that of course I don’t and I’ve the best wife ever).

2) I want to update my blogroll! It’s completely out of date and I know it! The thing is – I follow about 50 ALI blogs, and of course that includes every person who I know reads this blog regularly (Hi lurkers who don’t comment! know you are loved as well!). I know a few of you have put me on your blogrolls (thanks!) and I really want to reciprocate. But I also don’t want my blogroll to be completely useless because it’s so freaking long. So – first thing’s first:

If you want to be added to my blogroll please let me know in the comments or by using the handy contact page linked above.

And I want your opinion: Should I keep my blogroll in the sidebar? Or should I get all stirrup-queeny on your butts and do a whole separate page? Because seriously – I follow like 50 blogs at this point and if I put them all in – well, then we’ll be having some trouble.

Vote Below!

That’s all for today folks. Hoping to be out of the lexapro haze soon!

Sunday – The Day of the Doctors: Help me prep!

8 Apr

Ok, so here’s the deal: I’m a mess.

No, seriously. I’m a complete mess. The last week or so I’ve been detached, I’ve had middle-of-the-night anxiety attacks (something that hasn’t happened to me in months), and two uncontrollable crying fits in the last 48 hours.

Something’s up.

I mean – duh, of course something’s up. What I mean is, too much is up. I think my anti-depressants aren’t working. And I think it’s not a coincidence that I started having panic attacks as soon as AF showed up.

So I decided to make Sunday my Day of Doctors. I already mentioned making an appointment with Dr. Twofer. That’s happening at 6pm. At 3pm I have an appointment with my GP just to go over some blood tests and get my mega-vitamin-D prescription renewed. So – I decided to go all out and add Dr. Happy Pills to my appointment list at 11am that same day. I’m a woman on a mission. By the end of sunday, I want to know what the hell’s going on with my body. I don’t care if it’s me being control-freaky. It’s time.

And for that – I need your help!

I’m about to spew a very long list of concerns and problems I’ve been quietly not thinking about or talking about. Once I’m done with them, I want all of you guys to chime in – I want to hear your opinion. What tests and workups should I be asking for? What am I missing? Am I exaggerating with anything? Should I just shut up? Because I tried shutting up with Dr. Blunt, and with all due respect, it just made me sit around and wait to have another miscarriage. I really want to feel like I’m in control of my body.

So – this is something I don’t think I’ve actually done on this blog before, but without further ado – here’s my whole sordid history:

Age 17 – first bout of depression and anxiety – periods start to become irregular. Go on BCP. (I think these two may be connected. More on that later)

Age 22 – Diagnosed with PCOS – stay on low dose BCP. No other action taken. Anxiety and depression still come in bouts.

Age 27: Lose the pill. Meet Shmerson. Periods incredibly irregular. Use condoms as Birth Control. Anxiety and depression still there. Still (somewhat) under control.

Age 29 – present (halfway to 31):

Because of Jewish Laws and such, I needed to make sure that AF was done a few days before me and Shmerson’s wedding, so that I can go to the “Mikveh” and the wedding would be recognized by the rabbinical institute here (long, annoying patriarchal story).

Anyway, because AF wasn’t regular, and the wedding was coming up, I took provera for 3 days to jump start AF. It worked. Because AF was irregular leading up to the wedding, Shmerson and I had decided to TTC right away (as in during the honeymoon). I was completely clueless even about ovulation at that point. Turns out those rabbis know their stuff, because the way they time it, you ovulate right around your wedding day. Clever bastards. So (I assume) due to that AF jump start I ovulated on our honeymoon and tada! Baby made. Didn’t find out I was preggo until I was around 5 weeks because I was so used to AF not being regular. I POAS on a whim and got a BFP.

Betas were normal. First US at 5 weeks showed a small sac.

I go and get my genetics tested to make sure all is well. I get the all clear so shmerson is told he doesn’t need to test for hereditary diseases.

Second U/S was scheduled for 8 weeks. 4 days before that I started bleeding, diagnosed with a blighted ovum. I ended up getting a D&C on the day we were supposed to see a heartbeat.

Anxiety and depression get worse. I decide they will get better if I get preggo again (really smart of me).

Surprisingly, AF shows up exactly when it’s supposed to – 30 days after D&C. Positive OPK on CD20. BD from CD 15-CD 21. Faint BFP on CD 27.

Now this m’dears is when things get complicated. Here’s where I share some stuff I haven’t shared here before, probably because I was too scared to think about it, let alone write or talk about it. It’s only in the last few days that this whole affair has started to come into focus for me.

So – Faint BFP on CD 27. Time to get a blood test to confirm right? Wrong. A perfect storm was brewing. It was Rosh Hashana – which is Israel’s equivalent of everyone else’s “Holiday season”. Two weeks of EVERYTHING being closed. Between that and my total state of denial I kept on putting off the blood test. I figure I would just go “after the holidays”. Denial is a wonderful thing.

But I knew I was preggo. I kept on getting BFPs. I peed on many sticks during those two weeks. Another fun fact: My anxiety was through the roof. This is when I started waking up in the middle of the night with anxiety attacks (this was every night. and they were BAD).

So, holidays are wrapping up, and I start bleeding. I call my obgyn. He brings me in that same day. He does an U/S, and he doesn’t find a thing. No sac. Nada.

He actually believes I’m either not preggo or I got my math wrong. I assure him: Positive OPK on CD 20. I’m almost 6 weeks along. Trust me.

He tells me that I need to get my betas done so that he’ll know whether he needs to go looking for that fetus. (In other words, there’s a chance this may be ectopic).

So the next morning, I get my Betas. They’re in the high 900’s. Bleeding still going strong. OB says to wait 72 hours and get another beta. I can’t wait that long. 48 hours later I get a second beta. it’s 1200. Numbers aren’t doubling. I call the doctor. By the time he calls me back I’m already passing clots. I know it’s over.

I come in two days later, he sticks his magic wand in my hoo-ha and says that all is clear. I say ok. I’m destroyed.

I don’t think to ask why the hell he didn’t see a sac in the first place, and why he’s only looking at my uterus and not at my tubes. I don’t think I want to know. I don’t think about the fact that this could have been ectopic.

Anxiety and depression become unbearable. AF becomes a clockwork 29-30 day cycle (this is the first time since the age of 18 that this happens without the aid of pills). Ovulation happens always between CD 17 and CD 20 (usually closer to 20).

I break down emotionally in December and decide to go to a shrink as Shmerson and I pick up the pieces and decide it’s time to figure out what’s up.

In the meantime, I start having a slight sense of cramping on my right side during AF and up until ovulation. Then it goes away. This happens every month. I decided to ignore it (oh god please don’t let there be something wrong with my tubes. please don’t tell me my last pregnancy was an ectopic and this pain is because of that).

I go see Dr. Blunt. I don’t tell him about the pain because I’m stupid and I’m in denial. He sends me to do a clotting test. My MTFHR says I’m a Heterozygote. Dr. Blunt says that means that I’m fine and I don’t need anything. He suggests progesterone supplements after a BFP. I ask him to do a hormonal workup (all I’ve had checked is my thyroid) he says I don’t need it. I’m uneasy with this, but in the spirit of “letting go of control” I go along with it. And in that same spirit, he doesn’t give me an US or anything.

In the meantime, I go to my GP for a general blood workup- high blood pressure and a vitamin D deficiency, and also, elevated lymphocytes, which are basically antibodies. That usually happens right after a sickness, but for me I’ve always had it. Doctor wants to monitor lymphocytes. I have no idea why and whether that has anything to do with anything.  I start taking prescription dose vitamin D and decide to quit smoking because that will obviously help with the blood pressure thing. And yeah, I should really quit smoking because of all the other stuff too.

I quit smoking. Shmerson and I start TTC again. Ovulation not monitored but guessing it was on CD 17. AF starts on CD 30 and that freaking pain on my right side comes right along with it (worse than ever).

And on the night before AF starts,  I wake up with an anxiety attack. The first time that’s happened since I started meds. And then the next night it happens again.

And the last two days, I’m pretty much as much of a wreck as I was right after the second miscarriage.

I have realized that it was all nice and good while Shmerson and I weren’t TTC, but now that we are again, I need to take control of my care. I cannot wait around to have another M/C.

I also can’t spend another TWW like I did this one. I also cannot handle being back with all of that anxiety and non-functioning depression. So when I go to my day of doctors on Sunday (in case you’re curious, sunday is Israel’s monday), I want to come armed with everything I need to tell them, everything I want to ask, and a list of every test me (and possibly shmerson) need to take.

I’ve got a few guesses.

I think that maybe – just maybe my PCOS is causing a hormonal imbalance that has resulted in increased anxiety, and that the meds may be masking that.

I think my second pregnancy was an ectopic that cleared, though I have no proof of that except the beta numbers and that stupid nagging pain on my right side that was never there before.

I think that if I have another miscarriage I may go insane.

And now I need your help.

What do I say to Dr. Happy Pills? Should I stay on the anti-depressants if they’re not working for me? Should I just detox off of them and hope that balancing out my hormones will do the trick and take xanax until that happens?

What do I ask Dr. Twofer? The man’s a gyno and an endocrinologist, and I’m paying for a private consultation, that means, everything is on the table. Every test in the book. I just don’t want him to think I’m crazy. Am I imagining this ectopic? What affect would a prior ectopic have on TTC at this point?

Have at it ladies – I need all the help I can get. I need to come in armed with a plan and take control of this Biyatch.

So – theories, personal experiences, debunkings, lists of tests, screaming at me to shut up, lists of questions – all of it. Lay it on me.

Thanks!!

What If

15 Mar

First – an update. The woman who I posted about yesterday gave birth to yet another healthy baby boy. I officially clicked “hide” today on her profile. Don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. She has gone from “I’m not crazy about her” to “I hate that woman” in the course of 24 hours. Yay her.

Thanks for everyone’s lovely and supportive comments yesterday. They really did help.

But yesterday sucked – on a lot of levels.

However, today, some of the sources of that suckage were revealed with my monthly visit to Dr. Happy Pills.

Yeah – turns out my whole “let’s lose the patch” plan – well – not so much with the smart.

I had my first uncontrollable crying fit in months last night. And it was terrible because Shmerson is away at reserve duty and I was feeling particularly alone (luckily, Court was there to talk me down from having a cigarette and squish was there to talk me down in general). Today, when I entered Dr. Happy Pills’ office, exhausted and puffy eyed, he said: get yourself back on the patch. Now.

Then came the barrage of “me knowing betters” that included “but the nicotine is already out of my system!” And “I don’t want to get re-addicted!”.

His answer: Get the lower dosage patch but get yourself back on the freakin’ patch.

See- turns out those cigarettes were medicating my anxiety issues even more than I thought. Now that I’m clear headed (back on a lower dosage patch) all of the sudden, the last few days – the crying fits, the disconnection, the over eating, the not going to yoga, the not handling anything with even an iota of rationality – well, they’re all making much more sense.

Yeah – nicotine plays on the same exact places in the brain that happy pills do. This means I have to WEAN MYSELF OFF SLOWLY or go completely batshit – (see the last few days as an example of me going batshit. Though what you read on the blog was tame compared to what was raging in my head).

So – I am now back on a low dose patch. I will wean myself off of it slowly. I will listen to Dr. Happy Pills properly from now on. No more “me knowing better.”

(You’d think I’d have learned that lesson by now, wouldn’t you?)

The thing is, with the emotional rollercoaster of the last week or so, going from doing the happy dance to rock bottom in the course of hours, having a constant internal dialogue with myself about smoking versus non-smoking, a lot of fears have started to creep back in.

On a lot of levels today’s appt. with Dr. Happy Pills kind of sealed the deal regarding TTC again. Along with my regular prescriptions, he also gave me a script for a less effective, but preggo-safe anti anxiety med to start taking as soon as I get a BFP instead of the xanax. All areas are now covered.

So it’s official. I’m a non-smoker (now with more regulated mood swings!). I’m down to a single glass of caffeinated something per day, I’m getting stuck with needles once a week, I’m taking folic acid, and I own my very own yoga mat. I’ve got my bases covered. I’m ready to become a baby making machine.

But…. What if…?

Let me stop here and share with you an excerpt of a draft of something that I started writing a few days back. This is a post about re-framing traumatic experience, which I will most likely publish in the next few days, but with all of this stuff omitted, since you’re reading it here, and it turns out it has no place in that other post. So, here you go:

Take my next BFP – lord knows I’ve had enough trauma with pregnancy to last a lifetime. And I’m in a rather precarious place. It’s going to be a third pregnancy. If this one doesn’t stick that means that we have to start pulling out the big guns. Thinking of plans b, c, and d.

If I miscarry again, that means that in the eyes of every single doctor I turn from “repeated aborter” to “habitual aborter”.

I’m a third time offender. In California that’s a life sentence right there (ha ha I made a judiciary funny).

I’m not dreading pregnancy (well, duh). I’m not even dreading those first few weeks, which I know will be hell on so many levels. The fear. The anticipation. The worry. Did I mention the fear?

But I am determined to make this entire process of going back to TTC a  better experience.

I’ve quit smoking. I’ve tossed the OPK’s. I’m letting go of control. I will have fun having sex with my husband like any other normal couple should.

And once I get that BFP – oh my are things going to be different. There will now be a doctor that I like and trust (already made sure of that). That doctor will be forced to give me an emergency contact number, so that if something goes wrong, I will be going to him to get the bad news, and not be subjected to the humiliation of having a stranger tell me the news.

I will not spend my next pregnancy in denial. I will count the pregnancy from day one and not wait “until I see a heartbeat” or “until the 12th week” to make it count and appreciate it.

Yes I will be scared out of my wits. But I’ll have you guys here with me the entire time. And if I miscarry. If something, spaghetti monster forbid, goes wrong? If I officially make it into the three-timer club……?

This is where I got stuck writing the post. All of the sudden I found myself without an answer to that particular “What if?”. I was so sure I had it all figured out. I was so sure everything was in place. But I forgot about that last “what if?”.

What if I make it into the three-timer club?

What if all of this hope, all of this optimism, all of it gets shattered?

I’ve had all the tests that you’re supposed to have at this stage of the game. As a two-time offender.

That doesn’t mean everything’s ok. It means that everything that’s been tested is ok. There’s still a battery of highly invasive high-tech thingamabobs that have yet to be inserted into my uterus because I haven’t made the transition from “repeat aborter” to “habitual aborter”.

This is what’s been haunting me for the last few days. The possibility that this saga has just begun. That with this next BFP, despite every heart-wrenching step I’ve taken, it still will not be enough. I will still cross the threshold from “repeat aborter” to “habitual aborter”.

It’s that “what if” that is scaring me right now more than anything else.

It’s that “what if” that brings on the self destructive thought of “what’s the point of all of this? what if it won’t make a difference?”

And now – I have no choice but to just wait and see, and push that particular “what if” aside as best as I possibly can.

But I know that this “what if” is what will be haunting me for the next few months. And what sucks is, there’s really nothing I can do about it.  My inner control freak is currently having a serious temper tantrum.

 

Writer’s Block Over?

26 Feb

Apparently so. Yes – I put it off till the last minute. The deadline is two days away. Yes, it’s an adaptation.

But I sat down and wrote a 3 page synopsis today. And I think I did a damn good job too. It needs a bit more work – but I did it.

And you know what? I’m so frakking relieved I can’t even explain it.

Confession time: apart from this blog, I haven’t written a lick since my breakdown in december.

I think I was afraid that the meds would mess with my creativity, or would make me different – or something. I don’t know. I was just scared of trying to write and having something crappy come out.

I’d heard that anti-depressants can mess with your creativity, and despite proof to the contrary in the form of this blog, I was scared to death of attempting something as daunting as a film synopsis.

But the meds had no effect. I did it. I can do it.

*doing the happy dance*

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. 🙂

Pathetic, Really

17 Jan

So my last post was all about me being “bla”. I’ve been trying to figure out what made me feel like this after such a wonderful weekend. Part of it, I’m sure, is adjusting to the new Zoloft dose, but part of it has been that my absolute longing for a baby has been re-ignited in what I think is a rather unhealthy way.

See – I’ve really been trying this whole patience thing. It’s been working on and off mostly for the last month.

I know there are steps that need to be taken before Shmerson and I TTC again. Here! Let me outline them for you!

1) I need to quit smoking (again).

2) I need to be in a place where I no longer need to rely on xanax for anxiety.

3) I need to get through all of my blood tests and make sure everything is ok with me health-wise.

4) Shmerson and I need to be in a place where we’re financially stable long term.

We’ve been taking steps for all of these things, and they really do seem like they are around the corner. 1, 2, and 3 are most likely happening within the next month, and 4 – though far more complicated – is well on it’s way.

But still – I need patience. And one of the best things in my life is testing that patience.

This is Luna:

Top photo courtesy of Squish, of course.

Ok – I am definitely the farthest from objective here, but she is the best doggy ever.

Shmerson and I adopted her in May of ’08, when she was about 5 months old.

This was fairly early in our relationship but we didn’t really care because it was obvious that we were both in it for the long haul.

When I first saw her picture on a dog adoption board I just knew in my heart she would be ours. We drove two hours to meet her and took her home immediately, and two days later, she was already whining when one of us left the house.

Luna is sensitive, she likes to cuddle, and I will be the first to admit that she is incredibly needy and could probably use a bit of training (once we can afford it).

But this dog is so incredibly smart an loving even without that. I love her to bits, unconditionally.

My family always teases us that we treat her like an ad-hoc baby. And we do. We have conversations about how to raise her, we babble to her in baby talk, we are over-protective of her and we cuddle with her. A lot.

Yesterday, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. She, as usual gave herself over to my cradling immediately. I looked at her for a moment and realized that I was holding her as if I was holding a baby.

The longing in my stomach became almost unbearable. I started to realize that I was trying to make her fill a void that she never could.

I spent the rest of the evening melancholy, and when shmerson and I went to sleep last night, two seconds before he was away in dream land, I said to him “Shmerson, I want a baby.”

He answered “Soon. Very soon.”

Then I couldn’t sleep and I thought I would blog about it. But then I thought – what’s the point? I mean, this longing has never really gone away. It was just that moment of realization that made it more poignant at the time.

It took me all day today to process the fact that this amazing little puppy is a trigger. I just hope I don’t hold it against her (and against myself).

Urgh.

Yay me!

13 Jan

So yeah – it turns out the zoloft kind of stopped working somewhere around last thursday.
I was feeling detached, I was relying heavily on xanax, and I was basically anxiety ridden and with absolutely zero motivation.
I’d been taking half a pill (0.25 mg) a day, and I knew that I would eventually have to up the dosage to a full pill, but the shrink was trying to be careful about it because of the pretty awful reaction I had to them at first.

So just like that, when things were starting to look up, I was once again back to my old, no motivation, do nothing, then freak out about it pattern.  Oh – and the food cravings came back too and I spent all week eating junk food.

And of course – the whole “not talking about it” thing came back as well. It’s amazing how easy it is to fall into old patterns.

Lucky enough – this time, I was aware enough to notice it today. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was time to go up to the normal dosage.

So I called my shrink, told him how I was feeling, and lo and behold, he said the same exact thing.

So starting today I’m on .50 mg of zoloft. I just hope I don’t have the same side effects as I did when I started. A friend with some experience with this stuff assures me that it won’t happen since the medication is already in my system. We shall see. Cross your fingers for me that this time it sticks!

But yeah, I’m pretty proud of myself for recognizing it and catching it in time. Yay me!

On another note – shmerson and I are going to the wedding tomorrow followed by a romantic weekend, so I tried on dresses and shoes today.

Three out of 7 fit me, which isn’t bad, though it could be better. I finally settled on a white number with black flowers and some simple black heels so I can go all out in the jewelry department. Yay ginormous earring!

My plan is to get to the hotel, take a long hot bubble bath, and then spend an hour on my hair and make up. Besides my wedding, I haven’t done that in over a year. Should be fun!

Food for Thought

3 Jan

ok – I’m making up a new tag – “daily revelation”.

It seems to be happening all the time, so I’m just gonna go with it. Though I’m sure some of you readers out there are getting quite sick of them. I promise I’ll post something funny soon, ok?

So I’ve always felt fat. I remember feeling fat at age 11.

I wasn’t fat. Not even close. What happened was that I developed boobs like MEGA-early and a really mean girl at school starting calling me “porky” and that just became my internal monologue.

I only actually BECAME fat at the age of 17.

So my daily revelation: Food was a way of self medicating my depression and anxiety.

Yeah, I know- DUH!!! – right?

but I seriously had a lightbulb moment about this.

Here’s the thing. The last few years I’ve had an obsession with food. Cooking it, eating, watching shows about it. It was so huge that I actually considered at one point saying “fuck it all” and studying to be a chef.

And I admit – I am a righteous cook. I really am.

But a funny thing has been happening since my head cleared. I’m no longer obsessed with food.

It could be a side effect of the zoloft – or it could really be the fact that I no longer need to medicate myself with it.

Since I started zoloft I have lost around 5-6 pounds. I eat less. I hardly ever think about food. I even need to remind myself to eat sometimes.

In my previous post I talked about my first true encounter with depression and anxiety at age 17.

Surprise surprise, it is also around the time I first became fat. I ballooned up to 180 pounds by the time I was 18.

I’ve been a yo-yo ever since. I diet, I lose the weight, I gain it back again. Over and over.

I’m now around 145 pounds. After the second miscarriage I ballooned up to around 150-155 (I never looked at the scales). At my wedding I weighed 140-ish. At my thinnest I am usually around 120.

I love the way I look at 120. I feel sexy. everything just kind of “sits” right.

And each time I manage to diet and reach that weight (it’s happened 3 times since the age of 17), I up and gain it all over again each time quicker than before.

A while ago (pre-breakdown, post-miscarriage) Schmerson and I were talking about how I would like to lose weight, quit smoking, and just generally “feel better”.

After a long conversation the conclusion was basically “all of these things have the same cause. Treat the cause, and the symptoms will more or less take care of themselves.”

Yep. Apparently we were right. Since the cyclical never-ending fog of constant anxiety has lifted, I’ve lost 5 pounds, and I wasn’t even trying. I eat much less. I get offered chocolate and turn it down because I’m full. Unheard of.

There was half a loaf of home-baked brioche that was literally thrown in the garbage because I didn’t feel like eating it. That’s a miracle in my world.

I passed by two places that sell doughnuts today and I didn’t stop in to buy one. I almost did out of habit. But then I didn’t. Inconceivable!

I feel like I finally grasp the concept of self-medicating. Weird.

But you know what’s even weirder? Food has become a huge part of my identity over the last few years. Even my mom, when she’s got a bunch of random ingredients in the fridge, calls me up so I can tell her what to cook with them.

And for the last few weeks that part of my identity has kind of disappeared. I don’t know if I like that.  It’s incredibly strange.

But I do like the very welcome side effect of the disappearing poundage.

We shall see.

Update

29 Dec

The anxiety won out in the end- so I had to take a xanax.

I really hope things even out soon!

Ahh well, still had fun today. Yay progress!

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!

I am so incredibly sick of feeling this way

26 Dec

Today was a two xanax day. The first because I was nervous to find out the blood test results, and the second was because I met a up with a friend and any and all talk about the future became completely overwhelming (I have more to post about this meet-up, but will do it another time).

I called my mom and told her that my B12 levels were within the norm. Then I started crying.

Yep – this means that I need to find medication that works for me. This means that there isn’t a magical answer and cure for what ails me.

I also called my aunt and cried to her for a while.

They both said basically the same thing;

Just snap out of it. Everything is fine. You’re driving yourself up the wall. Get over it – start taking care of yourself and you’ll be ok. You’re exaggerating. Calm down.

Well – thank you so much for that! I just need to snap out of it! Of course! How did I not think of that sooner? I mean *snap!* here we go! I’m all better! Thanks for the great advice mom and aunt!

I know they meant well. I don’t blame them. I just… well, I just can’t seem to do it.

I so want to not feel this way anymore. I so want to have energy, and to function and to feel ambition and hope constantly – not just in sporadic waves.

But I don’t. I’m not. And it sucks. And I want it to stop sucking.

Please oh please can things stop sucking now?

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.

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