Forgot to take my meds in the morning before leaving the house for the day. Which meant that I necessarily would not be taking my bupropion. I realized halfway through the trip and I am afraid that I swore. When I went back on meds for the first time as an adult (pre-children) I was extremely compliant. I took my medication every day at the same time. I went back on medication after I was sent home from work since I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't sad about anything that I can remember. And I tried to insist that I was perfectly fine to go teach English to the Hmong kindergartners. While weeping uncontrollably. Right. It's possible that the worsening of my Depression symptoms coincided with my attempts to conceive a child. I don't remember. It seems likely. I was an infertility patient, and experiencing fluctuations in hormones for the first time made me feel like I was losing my mind. Nope, said my doctor, that's just normal. I am ashamed to say that my reaction to this was: "This is what normal women go through every month? No wonder they don't let us become fighter pilots!!!" Because the medication was so obviously beneficial I became a born-again pill-popper. I took them faithfully every morning. Except three times that first year I forgot. The first day I missed my dose of medication, there was a catastrophic computer crash at work. Only catastrophic to data, not people-- but I was the one involved with the data collection (not the crash) and it felt like a landslide. The second day I missed a dose we got word that my friend and co-worker's brother committed suicide by hanging himself. I felt irrationally responsible. The third day I missed a dose was September 11, 2001.
Daily Convexions
Comments are closed.
|
Archives
May 2020
Categories
All
K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |