I am choosing to blame the decreased levels of venlafaxine. I will work my way backwards through the days that I remember.
I worked from 8:30 - 3:00 with time off for good behavior near the lunch hour. It is my long day of work. Typically followed by an evening tap class. But on the way in to work I felt shaky and horrible. Hot and weepy. Disinclined to interact with people. Slow in my thought. I asked Spouse to come home early because I was "physically fine, mentally 'meh.'"
This proved to be a great boon because I could not cope with even the ordinary parenting moments. Daughter wanted to climb me like I was playground equipment. Sons got into crying screaming stomping argument over the fairness of a coin toss. And I was the tosser. (ha.)
Made every effort to not close myself away in my bedroom. I did for a short time while Spouse and daughter were fetching essentials from the grocery store. And that was only to escape the coin toss aftermath.
Continued to feel shaky and weird. My face felt sunburned. It was difficult to make facial expressions. Daughter kept pushing at my cheeks. "Don't frown, mama."
Stayed up until 2:30 pm for several reasons. I claimed that I stayed up so that daughter didn't wake anyone else when she got up to use the bathroom several times in the night. I told myself that I was staying up because of some comment Spouse made about the reasons for his chronic tiredness.
But I was actually staying up because I was on a roll in my fictional life (over 50,000 words on my trashy novel) AND because I feared that if I had so many other symptoms of venlafaxine withdrawal perhaps I would also be visited by horrendous nightmares.
The Day Previous
The morning began with an explosion of yelliness that was extraordinarily difficult for me to cope with. Children bounced back minutes later, but the negative energy stayed with me throughout the day.
I dropped children off at school and spent three hours writing at a coffee shop while the Daughter taught herself to read and made a passionate argument that v-u-l-t-u-r-e could not possibly spell vulture and I was WRONG. I was LYING. Because if it spelled vulture, then what was that e doing there?
When I returned home I surveyed the many piles of chaos that I have been afraid to touch. Afraid to tidy or declutter because I can't see any little things to do. I can only see big things. No parts of projects. Only the whole cloth. And I was fighting not to get pulled under.
I systematically, toronadically dismantled the essence of everything in the children's room. I brought boxes up from the basement and packed away every book, every toy, every single item (excluding clothing and a few popular board games) that belonged to the boys and locked them in my bedroom. On my bed.
Experienced near-crippling pain in my back between my shoulder blades. Promised a friend that I would stop. Make tea. And see my chiropractor. Which I did.
Chiropractor wondered if I had been throwing oversized shot-puts, such was the degree of tension.
Later I fell asleep with the daughter while the boys did not run away from home and join the circus. That is all I can say of them for certain. I slept soundly enough that I did not wake when Spouse returned home. Or when he took younger boy to tap dance. Or when they returned.
When I woke at 8pm, I woke the daughter as well. And heard a soft, irritated, "why did you wake her up?" Which began a great spiraling downward plunge into...
I cannot do anything right. That I had accomplished nothing. I could fix nothing. That I didn't know what to do during moments of yelliness that would not Make Everything Worse. That I couldn't repair things. Couldn't repair anything.
And even though I knew that not everything was my fault, I felt that it was absolutely my responsibility to fix things. (yelliness, stress, tension, chaos, lack of dinner plans, inappropriate sleep habits) Because that is what I do.
This was followed by an hour-long crying jag that frightened my sons and bewildered Spouse.
My co-teacher was exhausted. I was buzzed. That's all I can recall.
And now? I am without a smile. Frighteningly awake. Easily irritated by anything that is not going the way I wish it to go.
On the plus side? I am fricken' fracken' hi-larious when I am depressed. No, really. Ask my family. I have disabled them with laughter quite a few times in the past few days. A defense mechanism, most likely
Quaker, teacher, parent,