As gauged by willingness to attend band rehearsal.
1. Ready to leave house early. Have eaten dinner. Food is prepared for other people. I sing a merry tune as I skip out the door. I come home a bit wired after practice.
2. Spend time before rehearsal closeted in my room. Scarf down some snack before running out the door late. Other people must fend for themselves. Count the minutes until rehearsal is done. Return home exhausted.
3. Come home from school and lock myself in my dark room cocooned in the covers. Cannot leave the house. Will not interact with others.
When I have forced myself to go to rehearsal in this state, it resulted in crying jag throughout. And it is hard to play horn while crying.
Corresponding to these stages are the stages of planned inhalations... because when playing a wind instrument you have to breathe. Deeply. In places in the music that are fixed. Breathing is not optional. Breathing shallowly or quickly or randomly is not possible.
1. I am calmed by taking deep measured breaths. It feels like meditation. Like group worship in the Quaker sense. A good rehearsal can be like a gathered meeting.
2. I am pissed off that I have to take deep breaths as marked. I don’t want to. It seems like an imposition.
At the breath marks, at the raised baton... I find myself gritting my teeth. Who are you to tell me when to breathe? A level of in unwished for micromanagement.
3. Breathing is too much to ask of me. I just want to stop.
I thought I was double dosing in the escitalopram. The reverse of the dosage issue I had with the lamotrigine. But I wasn’t.
Spouse picked up a pill minder for me. I put all my am and pm pills in.
Quaker, teacher, parent,