I'm getting enough sleep. I'm eating relatively well (too much sugar lately, but oh well). Not really exercising since Elderboy's summer swim season ended. I think I'll charge my fitbit and try to walk and stuff. Maybe fix the treadmill downstairs. Maybe see about doing pilates at the Y again.
But I still don't think that the SSRI is doing its trick. I've taken antidepressants when they work before, and this is not working. I'm on pretty much of a baby dose so I think I'm going to leave a message for Psych NP and see if I can increase my dose. She just didn't want to risk provoking manic. That has not happened. I am nowhere near manic.
There is so much to do and yet I seem to spend most of it watching the clock and waiting for time to go by. But not like I'm really waiting for anything. I just am paralyzed with not knowing what to do. Or not wanting to do. Hard to say, really.
I like it better when Spouse is here. Which I guess is a good sign for my marriage. Much better than if I didn't like it when Spouse was here. Is that what I'm waiting for? I don't think so. I'm just at loose ends. When I do something it's mostly because I feel like it will mean I am a better person.
I did the dishes=proof that I do not suck.
It occurred to me the other day that when you watch movies and read books and stuff so little time is spent on doing the things that everyone needs to do just to get by day to day. Who washes their laundry? Or cooks dinner? Or cleans out the litterbox and empties all the garbage cans. I'm not saying I want to see these things. I just need to remember that it is yet another way in which fiction is not like real life.
Not everyone is pretty.
Not everyone has an awesome wardrobe and a personal stylist.
Not everyone has someone to take care of the minutia of everyday life that bogs you down.
Who matches their socks? Seriously. Socks are the bane of my existence.
I'm reading a superhero book in which the main character/first superhero has schizophrenia. It's pretty cool.
I met Not Glinda this week. I had trouble remembering her name. Now I do. It is not Glinda. She seems fine. We did the getting to know you stuff. I didn't cry in her office. I mentioned that I wasn't really suicidal. That sort of thing. I have a handout from her about Depression and Anxiety and all the lies your brain tells you.
It was kind of a nice refresher course at this time. Because I read a whole bunch of Really Familiar Thoughts and realized that they are Depression and Anxiety thoughts and nothing original. Taking one little thing and making it The Biggest Thing Ever. Feeling bad about something and then turning it into the fact that I am a rubbish human being.
I know these things are not true. I am not fishing for reassurance. I mean, I guess it's nice to be reassured that I am not rubbish. It doesn't hurt to be reminded since I forget.
When I was a new mom and my kids would cry, my IQ would drop 50 points. Luckily I have a few points to spare or it would have been a huge problem. Now I hear a dog bark and the same things happens. I don't like mean dogs, have I mentioned?
This seems ridiculous to me...
A mean dog barked at me this summer. I had a fairly extreme Anxiety response to this in part because my Anxiety was through the roof to start with. Now dealing with the after-effects. Unfortunately the mean dog lives nearby.
I am looking forward to the start of school so I can have routine thrust upon me. Elderboy did great with the summer running plan he got from his XC coach. If the plan said he needed to run 7 miles, he ran 7 miles. I feel like I need that sort of plan. But I don't think I could plan out the entire summer.
My younger 2 kids have a bingo sheet for reading. Like read a nonfiction book, read out loud to a younger kid, read a book and tell your parents about it. Maybe I could have a summer bingo sheet. And shoot for blackout.
I don't know.
All I know is summer is hard.
This summer I allowed my entire front yard to go feral. There is a plant version of this word. Riot? Chaos?
Just when I had summoned up the will (far too late) to tackle some of the mess, the mean dog barked at me and I became scared of my front yard. Which is where the offending plants live.
Now snow is practically going to fall tomorrow and there is just no point. There is a single tomato growing in my tangled garden. It looks sad and lonely. I don't have the heart to eat it.
On an entirely different note, I have received the second of my rejection letters from agents (go me!) so there is that. Don't get me wrong, it isn't fun to get a rejection letter. But it is a point of pride because it means I submitted. And I am crossing one off the list. If they don't love my stuff, I don't want them as an agent and vice versa. It's like getting married. You can't marry everyone. Thank god.
I still feel Depressed as hell. Clay faced and crabby. Hard to smile since I'm crap at faking it now, apparently. I know I will be honestly happy to see my students, so there is that. Real smiles around the corner, presumably.
10mg fluoxetine (waiting for this to have any kind of positive effect)
Ack. Wrote post. It disappeared. Here is the summary: stressed out. Depressed. Dealing with plumber, electrician, auto mechanic, water mitigation specialist and insurance agent. Also interviewed new therapist. School starting again soon. Stressed.
So, the drug that I had in my system that was BAD for me (Vraylar) is finally out of my system. Unfortunately it did a decent job of combating Depression and hypomania. So I don't have that benefit anymore.
But of course it caused MAJOR ANXIETY, which was LESS GOOD.
I wrote this blog post once and then my computer shut down and the post disappeared. So now I am rewriting it. Which is a pain. SO this version will be LESS GOOD.
Psych NP is putting me on a baby dose (10mg) of fluoxetine (Prozac). Because Depression. And because fall and winter and the disappearance of light. Not spring and summer and the need to do everything at once. So Depression probably more of a long-term and ongoing problem at this stage.
Still have lurasidone (Latuda) in my back pocket if things suddenly really suck.
Right now things do not significantly suck. I just have some major symptoms of minor Depression. I don't care. I don't want to do anything but write (symptomatic on both ends of the spectrum). I don't want to be around people. This includes you. And me. But I don't care. Oh well.
On the A.A. Milne scale of mental health, I am much more on the Eeyore side than the Tigger side. (Piglet goes along for the ride either way with his flipping anxiety.)
I don't like mean dogs. This is not a non sequitur but I'm not gonna go into it right now. Because I can't be bothered to figure out how to say what I want to say.
I am worried about school. I am worried about what I will be teaching. It will be fine. I am worried about my Workplace Accommodation who lost her sister this summer. I don't want us to be split up to teach four new classes between the two of us.
Next week I will meet the woman whose name is not Glinda to see if she is a Good Witch or a Bad Witch. Then she can be my therapist (Good Witch) or not (Bad Witch). Unfortunately it can be hard to tell with just one visit. I hate auditioning witches.
I have written and am editing 2 YA novels with LGBT characters. So now (to keep my hands off the first two books) I am writing a superhero YA novel with LGBT characters. Because why not.
I would write more, but I just don't want to.
300 mg lamotrigine
soon to be 5mg fluoxetine (for 1 week)
Quaker, teacher, parent,