First weekend with the munchkins

For the record, neither Z nor K could really be considered a munchkin anymore but still, they are.  Z is 16 and K is 13.  They are my step kids but I love them as my own.

In a way, the kids have also been suffering with me through the ups and downs of my depression battle.  The person they first met has changed a lot, some for the good and some for the bad, in the past, well, almost 10 years.  They've experienced all of the moods and issues and this past year has probably been one of the worst for them.  It's not so much that I was depressed but it was that I was moody as hell and had virtually no patience for anything.  With the kids been teens, they were having their own issues that further made me just a wee annoyed.

To be fair, I never took my frustrations out on either of them directly, but my moodiness and impatience affected them in many ways.  I have been rather withdrawn from our life as a family of four...hell, I've been pretty removed from most of my relationships with the exception of a few very close friends and my husband.  My parents, siblings and other extended family have also felt the neglect from me but since the kids are a bigger part of my life, they probably noticed it a great deal more.  Neither has really said anything to me, or to my husband as far as I know, but that doesn't mean they haven't noticed or made a comment to someone else. 

(I'm sure I will blog about my relationship with each of them at a later date and it really isn't overly necessary at this point.)

Anyway, this was the first weekend we've had them since I've been back on my meds.  Granted, I'd only been on them for twelve days once they got here but still, I was medicated.  I think it went well.  I was more actively involved with family times and didn't totally hide out in the bedroom.  I was in the bedroom a great deal but made several trips out to the more common areas of our home to talk with the kids.  They also spent some time with me in the bedroom when we were chatting and watching a football game.  I also didn't lose my temper about anything.  We had a couple of issues but I was able to deal with them without blowing up to my husband in private or bursting into tears, also in private.

I really feel like I'm moving forward towards a much healthier me.  I just keep going forward and doing everything I can to keep a positive and optimistic attitude. 

The toolbox, part 2

I mentioned that my best friend has what she refers to as her toolbox in this post.  I got a bit more information and think I have a better grasp on what it is and how to use it.  Li explained it that the things in her toolbox were the things she could do to better handle situations.  They are things that she is good at and things that she tends to forget about when she is in crisis mode or the deeper throes of depression.  They are tricks to help cope and are mechanisms to bring her back to present.  These tools are things like meditation, listening to music, dance, prayer, painting, etc.  She has some cute little boxes that hold index cards so she wrote on each index card a tool and then will pull from that randomly.  

Yesterday, I had a few readings done by my best friends Li and Lo.  Both of them hinted towards the need for me to create my own toolbox.  I know I need to work on it but the actual motivation to get it started is just not there.  My quest for perfection also tends to get in the way since I want the collection to be nice.  If I would just start it, I'm sure it will start to roll rather quickly.  But, it's the starting that I'm having issues with at the present moment.

Perhaps I will look for a pretty box first.  That will help with the motivation to fill it will beauty.

And I will.

Soon.

A week and a day

I've been back on meds for a week and a day.  Although I know I should not be able to tell a difference quite yet, I do feel better.  I'm chalking it up to the placebo effect.  And it's not like I felt bad in the first place.  I wasn't myself and I was having a lot more down/bad days/moments than good/up days/moments.  But ever since I started my meds, I've felt better.

The crying has diminished immensely.  I've always been an emotional person and can cry for almost any reason - traumatic, sad, happy, moving, etc.  The tears have been coming easier and more frequently lately.  But in the past week, I don't think I've had a crying jag once.  I even watched some TV shows that usually make me tear up and nada.

Sleep is happening.  Most nights I'm going to bed  between 10:00 pm and 11:00 pm and am waking up between 7:00 am and 8:00 pm.  Nine hours of sleep seems to be a good number for me.  My husband has started on a wacky work schedule where he has to wake up at 3:00 am to be in by 4:00 am so his alarm wakes me up.  I've been able to go back to sleep rather easily the past two days but we might have to work out a different system since that wake up seems to make me need an additional hour or two of sleep.

I am eating more.  I'd forgotten that the Zoloft seems to make me hungrier.  I know a potential side effect is weight gain but I've never gained much in the past when taking the med.  I do recall the first few months being a bit of a feeding frenzy that did taper off down to my typical eating habits.

All in all, I really feel like things are improving.

It was a great evening

In this post, I talked about how I was feeling a great deal of apprehension for an up-coming party.  I am so happy to report that most everything went incredibly well.  I say "most" because friend one forgot about it and friend two texted to say she wouldn't make it but I never got the text.  Because of the miscommunication with friend number two, I was feeling very hurt and somewhat angry.  We chatted a bit today and all is fine.  With friend number one, well, shit happens and he actually thought it had been rescheduled and had made other plans. 

Those were the only two problems with the night.  At least that is my opinion.

I did end up taking two Ativan.  One first thing in the morning and the other about an hour before the party was to begin.  I'd purposely saved my third in case I had problems during the party.  I didn't need it.  I'm extremely proud of that.

There were no upset or frustrated tears.  I didn't snap at my husband for something that he didn't do to my liking.  I didn't get overwhelmed or panic.  There were some minor moments that I was feeling a little apprehension but just took a few deep breaths and let it pass.  These moments were silly and totally inconsequential and I was able to recognize that instead of letting it become a major issue for me.  That is a HUGE step for me and one that I hope I can continue.

So, was this night a success because of the Zoloft?  Because of the Ativan?  Because I was experiencing a placebo effect from just knowing I was taking meds?  Was it something completely different?  Maybe the night just had so few snags that it didn't matter one way or the other.  I'm not sure but I do know that I'm very happy with how the evening went, how I felt during it, and the fact that I'm slowly getting my life back.  Yay me!

Describing my depression, part 2

After a lot of time, I know that there isn't anything "wrong" with the exception that I have depression.  There isn't a incident that happens to make me depressed, however incidents can make my already depressed mood worse or can trigger me into a depression if I'm teetering on the edge of the depression pit.

This sums it up quite nicely.

It is so difficult to explain depression to someone who has never had clinical depression.  Most people have experienced depressive episodes and might assume that such an episode is what depression is like.  In my experiences, this is true but not. 

I really don't know how to explain it so it makes sense.  Some of the feelings and emotions are similar but someone having a depressive episode will go through the experience and come out on the other side.  Those with clinical depression take much longer to come out of the depression.  It seems that depressive episodes can be traced back to a trigger - death, end of relationship, loss of job, etc. - whereas clinical depression doesn't have a trigger since it is a brain disorder. 

More than anything, I would love to be able to put into words just what goes on in my brain and in my life when I'm dealing with depression.  I want those I love to understand what I'm dealing with so they can understand it and me.  I know this would help them out just as much as it would help me.

Perhaps this blog will help.  Maybe I will be able to better work out my thoughts and explain things.  I think that is really by big goal.

Apprehension

Tomorrow, my husband and I are hosting a dinner party to celebrate Mabon.  When I first had the idea to do this, I had planned to be at least three weeks into taking my meds.  So we invited people and started making plans and then found out I wouldn't be able to see the doctor until the Monday prior to the party.

Fuck.

Still, I was excited for the party and didn't want to cancel.  So the plans continued.  I made lists and did what I could to keep calm and stress-free while still getting things prepared.  It has gone mostly okay thus far.

But now that it is the day before the party, I'm feeling nervous and somewhat overwhelmed.  I know that I'm nearly ready for the party and that I can get everything done that needs to be completed before the party begins.  As much as I hated to do it, I even made arrangements to have our dogs boarded overnight since they aren't the best with people they don't know all that well.  Just one less thing for me to worry about.

I am nervous that I will freak out.  The people invited are some of my nearest and dearest friends.  I know they love me, understand me, and know about my issues.  I know they will understand if I need to excuse myself to cry a bit and compose myself.  I know that I will be in a safe and accepting environment.  But still, I am nervous.

I'm planning to take my Ativan tomorrow.  I can take up to three of them a day and will be taking the maximum dosage just to help me be in the most prepared mindset and calm mood. 

Tomorrow will be a huge test for me.  I'm confident I can make it through the night but am less confident that I can do it without having a problem of some sort. 

Dosage change

Since Dr. S prescribed my medication on Monday, I have, per his request, been only taking 50 mg of Zoloft each day.  He wanted to slowly introduce the meds into my system but was also wanting to be careful if the bi-polar diagnosis is true. 

Tomorrow, I start on the 100 mg pills.

In the past, 100 mg has been the magical dosage.  I hope that will still be the case since I don't know the maximum dosage for Zoloft.  I'm not against using a different anti-depressant but would rather only do so if the Zoloft stops working or if I hit the max dosage and am still not where I need/want to be mentally.

I know the meds cannot be working yet so I'm chalking up my slightly brighter mood to the placebo effect.  Regardless, it feels good to know that I am doing something about this and not just letting the depression run my life.  I'm also taking control back, even if I need to do it with the help of a prescription.

Describing my depression

When I was first diagnosed with depression, the disease was very unfamiliar to me.  I knew what it was like to be sad and have an episode of depression but had no clue that having depression was so different.  Over the past thirteen years, I've done a great deal of research on depression and other forms of mental illness, especially those that I've been diagnosed with or have come up as possibilities for me.

And still, I do not know how to accurately describe it and how it feels to me.

This is in part to the fact that every day is different.  There are recurring themes but I don't know what combo I will deal with at any given moment.  It is a very personal thing but also one that I want to share with those I'm closest to so that they may understand me a bit better.

Every so often, I find a picture or a quote that really describes it well.  Here's one:

Scary stuff, huh?  Of course, if you have never read the "Harry Potter" books or seen any of the "Harry Potter" movies, this will mean nothing to you.  But if you have, then you probably shuddered when you read it. 

Long ago, I remember hearing about encouraging children who have cancer to picture the cancer as monsters.  This gave the kids a visual image of the disease and would help them to focus on using thought and imagery to maintain a good mindset during the radiation, chemotherapy and other treatments.  It also made it easier for them to understand what they were fighting against and what they hoped to defeat.

A dementor is a good representation of my depression.  It is big, scary and completely unpredictable.  It can literally suck the life right out of me, leaving me a shell of who I used to be.  It strikes fear in me, as well as those around me who see what it is doing to me.  They can be defeated, if you know how and if you are dedicated to fighting.

The price of happiness

As I've mentioned, I do not have health insurance currently so all of the doctor's fees, tests, blood work and medications come out-of-pocket.  Thankfully, my meds are rather cheap in comparison to some of the horror stories I've heard.

This is mostly for my own record but if you are unaware, here is what I am paying, full price, at Walmart.

Sertraline (generic form of Zoloft) 100 mg tablet --$19.72 for thirty tablets
Lorazepam (generic form of Ativan) 0.5 mg tablet -- $16.84 for sixty tablets

If my history is any indication, the Lorazepam will last me at least six months, if not more.

This is a huge relief for me.  The anxiety and depression that comes from worrying about just how the hell I can afford to see my doctor and take my medication is enormous.  It's a nasty, viscious cycle.  We need money so I can go to the doctor and fill my prescriptions.  I need my prescriptions so I can be balanced and stable.  I need to be balanced and stable so I can find and keep a job.  I need a job so I can have money so I can go to the doctor and fill my prescriptions...

UGH!

Luckily, my parents are helping bridge the financial gap by offering assistance as I need it until I can get a job and start covering the costs completely on my own.  I'm so grateful for them.  

Back in the saddle again

Yesterday, I returned to the doctor after being off my anti-depressant and anti-anxiety meds for at least a year.  Overall, it went as I expected but there were some moments that surprised me, in both good and bad ways.

I waited for a long time for my appointment.  I get so frustrated when I have an appointment and it is not kept.  I realize that things happen and that appointments cannot always be kept but I would feel much better, and be much less likely to have the panic attack I had, if someone would at least communicate with me.  Let me know my doctor is swamped or was called away with an emergency.  Just reassure me that I haven't been forgotten.

What do I mean by a long time to wait for my appointment?  My appointment was for 2:30 pm.  I arrived 15-20 minutes early to check in.  At 3:30 pm, I was finally called back from the waiting room.  I was then put in an examination room while a nurse took my information.  To be fair, the clinic is going to a new computerized system so the intake was a bit slower than normal.  After the intake, I sat there for at least 10 minutes before getting moved to a different examination room.  I finally saw my doctor at 4:10 pm.  This means that I waiting for my doctor for an hour and 40 minutes beyond my appointment time.  I call bullshit.

In this post, I wrote about my apprehension for the appointment and what would probably happen.  It is slightly accurate.  One thing I can say for sure is that I now know that my doctor DOES LISTEN to me.  Huge sigh of relief on that.

We talked and we both listened to each other.  He told me that besides my meds, I need to also be leading a healthier lifestyle that includes getting eight hours of sleep each night, incorporating regular exercise and eating healthy and regular meals.  I know that and agree and will do my best to make those healthy habits stick.

One of his new concerns, and one that I've heard before, is that I might be bi-polar.  His thoughts are based on how my moods sometimes cycle rather rapidly.  I do not experience intense mania, but may be quite "okay/normal" one moment and an hour later I can be impatient and in tears.  Dr. S's concern is that if I'm bi-polar, treating me with only anti-depressants will be a bad thing that can actually escalate the mania moments.  Not cool.

If I am bi-polar, I'm okay with that.  Different diagnosis do not scare me any more.  I feel the more I can be labeled with as far as my mental illness(es) go, the better because knowing what I have to battle against allows me to best prepare for that battle (e.g. medication, research, support groups).  If I can name the problem, I can address it.

The fear I do have if I am bi-polar is affording the medication.  It is much more costly than regular/typical anti-depressants.  Dr. S did reassure me that there are a number of programs available to help offset the cost.  There's a lot of paperwork involved and the application/referral process will take upwards of twelve weeks.  I will need to rely on my parents even more should this be the case.

Because Dr. S isn't fully convinced I am bi-polar, we are going to continue to treat my depression and my anxiety.  I'm back on Zoloft, 100 mg once daily and have Ativan, 0.5 mg that I can take up to three times a day as needed.  I am to be hyper-vigilant for any expressions of mania or high moods.  My anti-depressants should start to show in my moods in about two weeks with them reaching their maximum helpfulness in six-eight weeks.  I am going back for a recheck in four weeks on October 16.

I'm back in the saddle again.

"Get over it"

I wish more people would understand that depression is not just something you get over.  With depression and other forms of mental illness becoming more understood and more prevelant, that is changing but not nearly enough.  There are still many people with the mindset that those with depression just need to buck up and get over it and move past the depression.  

Depression - clinical depression - is not just feeling blue or being upset.  It is a chronic illness, an invisible disability.  It is lasting and doesn't just go away.  It is not caused by something bad or sad in my life.  It is based upon a chemical imbalance in my brain.  I have no control over it and can only do what I can to make the impact it has on my life as minimal as possible.  It is, and will be, a never-ending battle in my life.  I will always have depression and I will always have to take medication to deal with it.  (Of course, advances in medicine could find a cure for depression and there is a chance that I may someday be off my medication for good.  I'm hopeful that this will be the case someday, hopefully soon.)

I wish I could just "get over it."  That would make things a hell of a lot easier.

Stephen Fry quote

"If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

"Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do."

Thanks for sharing this, Li.

Panic attack coping mechanisms

I also started relying on various coping mechanisms to either alleviate the panic attack or lessen it. 

• Repetition -- Repeating mantras or chants over and over in my head helps me get out of my head and focus on the present and not the panic attack.  I sometimes will recite the presidents of the United States as well.
• Using my five senses -- Taking a drink of something very cold or hot helps me be present.  Popping in a piece of gum or a mint also works.  I sometimes take a deep breath of something nearby that smells pleasant.  I also will tap my fingers together in various patterns.  By utilizing one of my five senses, I can change my focus.
• Counting -- I will count objects I see, constantly moving to another set of objects once the former has been counted.
• Breath work -- By focusing on my breathing, I can slow it down and help myself calm.  Sometimes I will cycle my breathing by inhaling for a count of one, holding for a count of one, exhaling for a count of one and then increase it to two, then three, then four.  Once I hit four, I try to maintain that level.  I will breathe into a paper bag as well if I am hyperventilating or on the verge of hyperventilating. 
• Grounding and centering -- This is a method of connecting to myself and connecting to the earth and life around me in a way that is safe and non-threatening.
• Safe people -- There are certain people in my life that I call my safe people.  These people know me and recognize my panic symptoms.  They are able to help me calm down or aid me in escaping a situation with dignity and grace.  If I am with these people, I feel safe and prepared.   
• Having a plan -- Knowing the details is very important to me.  I'm not fond of surprises and don't adapt quickly to changes in a schedule.  If I know where I'm going, who could be there, what will be expected of me and how long I will be there, I can plan accordingly.  There is safety in having a planned schedule.

By getting a grasp on my panic disorders,
I diminished its power over me and my life.

Causes of my panic attacks

I started to recognize situations that were more apt to cause a panic attack.

• Crowds -- I was okay in crowds for short periods of time.  This also included crowded locations.  If I was outside, I could handle just about any number of people.  Outside was "safe" for me although this didn't mean I couldn't have a panic attack while outdoors. 
• Long-distance car rides -- Something about riding in a car could work me into a panic.  It wasn't something that always happened, but it was more probable than other situations.  Riding in the backseat and listening to music through headphones helped a great deal.
• Uncertainty -- If I didn't know what I was getting into, I could lose it.  I didn't need to know everything that was going to happen, but a loose schedule made everything easier. Along the same lines, surprises weren't good and neither we massive changes in a schedule.
• Increased demands/questions -- If I'm being asked a lot of questions in a situation, questions that I did not anticipate, I may panic.  These questions could even be small things such as what we are having for lunch.  Increased demands on me can also push me over the edge.  It's not that I don't expect there to be demand on me in my life, but when those demands are much greater than anticipated, I may just have a panic attack. 
• Temperature -- I do not cope with heat well at all.  Being hot/not being able to cool down, can cause me to feel exceptionally agitated and may lead to a panic attack.

Baby steps

I go to the doctor on Monday.  It will be three weeks since I made the appointment.  It will be approximately six weeks since I had the realization that I needed help and asked for it.  It will be almost eighteen months since I have last seen a doctor for my depression.  It will be at least a year since I've been on medication prescribed for my depression and/or anxiety disorder.

I am terrified apprehensive.

If the visit goes as it has it the past, I know exactly what to expect:

• I will arrive, check in, visit with the financial representative, pay my bill and head to a waiting area.
• I will sit in said waiting area for much too long given I have a scheduled appointment.  There will be people coughing and sneezing and sticky children will be running rampant.  I will glance at the magazines available in the waiting room and maybe read one.
• If I read said available magazines, I will later feel germy.
• A nurse will pop out, mispronounce my name and I will follow along like a little duck while trying to be polite and join in the courteous small talk.
• We will stop at the scale.  If life is being good to me, we will stop at the "skinny" scale that always seems to weigh me at a much more favorable and flattering weight.
• I will be deposited into a little room to again wait.  I will fight the urge to search through the drawers and explore.
• Dr. S will arrive and ask me "what's going on?" which is his way of asking me why I am seeing him.
• I will start to explain.  I will cry.  He will appear to be listening and I sincerely hope that he does listen.  I may or may not have to sit on the examination table and go through some ear and throat viewing and stethoscope listening.
• We will talk about medication.  He will probably suggest a lower, starter dosage.  I will ask for higher dosage.  I will remind him I do not have insurance.  He may suggest some blood work to, yet again and for the third time by my count in nine years, check my thyroid.
• He will suggest exercise.  I will nod in agreement but probably not change a thing.
• He will write a prescription for me.  Probably for Zoloft 100 mg (take once daily) and Ativan 0.5 mg (can take up to three times a day, as needed)
• He will suggest seeing me again in either three or six months.  He will, of course, remind me to call if the symptoms get worse.
• I will leave, get to my car and have a mini-meltdown

Once that is done, I will head to the pharmacy to have my prescription(s) filled and get started taking them that day.

Please, oh please, let my medications start working ASAP.

What's wrong?

Whenever things are less than rosy, or less that what other people perceive as rosy, I get asked the dreaded question: "What's wrong?"

I hate this question.

First, I hate it because I don't know how to respond.  I know this question is something asked by those I'm closer to than just basic acquaintances.  I know this because basic acquaintances or just people ask "How are you?"  It's a common courtesy question.  But still, I don't know how to respond to it.

Do you want me to be honest?  Do you really want to hear what is wrong and/or how I'm truly feeling?

Some people might.  But it is those same people that I do not know HOW to explain the "wrong" to.

In hindsight I can often put my feelings and the chaos that is swirling around in my brain into words that most people can comprehend.  Should I come back to you and tell you then?  Even if it is hours, days, or weeks later?

However, in that moment that I cannot find the sentiments to express myself correctly. 

So I say things like "nothing" or "it's a depression thing" to which most people take as enough of an answer.  To the "How are you?" I give the standard answer of "fine," clearly lying my ass off.  I know this and the person who asked knows this. 

Do I want people to dig?  Do I want my friends and family to probe further and get me to talk or explain?

Sometimes.  But mostly, no.  When depression is kicking my ass, I don't want to talk about it.  I cannot talk about it.  If I do, I feel like I give in and it gets to win for a brief moment.  I also find that I start to ramble and try too hard to explain that I make little sense or only cause more questions to be asked.  Or, the worst, I scare the person.  I scare them because they get a glimpse into my head.  I scare them because I sound like I do not want to live.  I scare them and their reactive concern is too much for me to handle. 

Second, I hate it because I hear it a lot for those I see the most.  The wording itself lends to the idea that something is indeed wrong.  Sometimes I'm just quiet.  Sometimes I'm reflective, or tired, or sick, or have a headache, or am wrapped up in something I'm doing.  But I hear "What's wrong?" because the person asking is concerned.  I appreciate concerned and am so thankful that I am loved by so many people but I feel like some are waiting for me to crack.  That at some point in the near future they will ask me that question and I will totally lose it.  It's almost like that question is setting me up for a breakdown.

So while I do appreciate the concern and I do love that people are genuinely interested in how I'm doing, please don't assume that I'm always deep in the throes of depression.  Don't wonder if I'm nearing the end of my rope.  Maybe think of different ways to inquire as to how I'm doing.  Perhaps asking what I've been doing lately would work.  Inquire about my day.  Or, on occasion, ask me how the depression is going.  Ask me specific questions.  Those are generally easier to answer and can make segueing into deeper conversation about my mental health less painful for both of us. 

The toolbox

My best friend Li has compiled what she calls her toolbox.  This is a collection of coping mechanisms.  These are the things she is good at, the things she understands, the things that she can fall back on when life has gone to shit.

I need a toolbox.

I need to find out more about how she compiled her toolbox and what she put in it.

The fear of getting better

From the blog "Anxiety Adventures" in reference to medication:

On one hand, I'd love to find the right balance. On the other hand, I'm afraid to feel better because then I have to be better, and I don't know how to do that. 

This is so true.

I used to remember what it was to be "better."  But I don't know what that means for me any more.  I have some vague ideas but nothing that I can concretely vocalize or set as a goal.  There is this girl that I have memories of.  She was care-free, fearless and laughed a great deal more than she cried.  There was a smile on her face that actually reached her eyes.  When someone asked her, "How are you doing?" and she replied, "Fine", it was truth and not just an automated response to keep her feelings safe.  

I do know that I want to be better because this shit is NOT working for me.

There is a fear of getting better.  Getting better implies that I'm okay and can function and deal with life.  Getting better means I've turned the corner towards recovery.  Getting better leads to increased expectations from both others and myself.  Getting better scares the shit out of me.

Getting better also implies that I can relapse or have a bad day and not be better.  That would be a let down to me.  I would feel like a failure yet again.  And if I am better and other people realize it and then relapse or have a shitty day, I might hear a comment like "I thought you were better?" that might possibly break me in the moment.  

But, at the same time, I want to get better more than anything.

Sleep

Changes in my sleep patterns have always been a good indicator of when my depression was getting worse.  I would sleep a lot.  I mean A LOT.  We are talking entire days and nights with waking moments to use the bathroom, tend to the dogs and maybe eat.

Over the years, I've also learned the importance of maintaining a sleep schedule to help keep my depression at bay.  Getting enough sleep (for me, this is eight-nine hours) helps me keep an even mood.  It also allows me to be at my best so I can do those things that I love, those things I should be doing and those things I must do.  All of these lead to a happier and healthier me.

Knowing this, and my seemingly life-long struggle with insomnia, I have found some over-the-counter medications that work really well for me.  I've been on various prescription sleep aids over the years but they always had downsides.  Often, they made me sleep too much (hello? that is one of my "here comes the depression" indicators), didn't allow me to wake up (oops, sorry job), made me feel hung over and groggy upon waking, or simply didn't work  at all.

So this miracle-for-me sleep aid is called Alteril.  I love it.  I helps me fall asleep, stay asleep and wake up easily to an alarm clock or with my body's natural rhythms.  It also doesn't leave me feeling hung over. 

Now, with all that being said, with all I know about the importance of sleep in my life and the need to keep a sleep schedule, it is totally non-existent at the moment.  My husband has been working the over-night shift.  He's on his second week of doing this.  It's not that I cannot sleep without him here, but I like to be awake when he's here so I tend to adopt his schedule.  Not good considering I do have a few daytime obligations from time to time.  It's been up and down and really crazy.

I also know I'm in the grips of a pretty intense downward spiral so the depression monster is telling me to sleep in order to not have to deal with anything.

Crap.

Seems my husband will have this week and next on the night shift and then he will be back to something more typical.  By that time, I will also be starting my anti-depressants.  This will work out.  I know it will.  Just need to hold on until that time.

Keep swimming

I'm drowning.

Seriously.

I feel as though I'm drowning and there is no lifeguard on duty, no life preserver in sight.

About two months ago, I made the conscious decision to return to anti-depressants.  I've been off them for over a year and it is just getting to be too much for me to handle without help.  However, I do not have health insurance, I do not work and my husband and I are on a tight budget.  So I turned to my parents for help and they were glad to do so.  That was a huge relief.

Once the monetary help arrived, I needed to psych myself up to actually make an appointment with the doctor.  That took approximately ten days.  The wait, for my scheduled appointment, was three weeks.  I've been just trying to keep afloat ever since.

I'm not saying my depression has gotten worse since the appointment was made, or since I reached out to my parents for help.  But I did let down some of my guards knowing that I was gong to be able to get some help.

Now I don't remember how to build them back up.

My appointment is one week from today.

I can make it.

I have to make it.