Medication

This post may seem disjointed, wandering and aimless. I feel all three of those things right now. At least I’m feeling something today. Here I am again in what seems like a vicious cycle that I can’t quite figure out… I can sometimes go days, weeks, and I’ve even had some good months all in a row, where I’m ok and I can deal with the grief and live my life. But then one little wrong move or one giant move and I’m not okay. I need help…

Last week I asked my doctor for medication… again. Each time I’ve tried the medication route it has been a failure. Last week I had hope that this time it would be different. You name it and I’ve taken it, it seems. Anti-depressants have one of 2 side effects for me. 1. I become suicidal, or 2. I completely check out, or 3. Ok 1 of 3 side effects. They bring out some odd little detail, which is normally an obscure habit for me, to the forefront. Once I took an anti-depressant and it brought all my OCD tendencies to the forefront. I had kept my sentence and word counting somewhat of a secret. A few people knew that I liked to count and make sure the words in my sentences ended in multiples of 5. I’d done that since sometime in high school… it had kind of faded as I had gotten older, but from time to time, I still catch myself counting words and rearranging them to make sure they are divisible by 5. This time though, I was sitting in my counselors office picking the polka dots and imaginary fuzz off my clothes. That was a fun couple of weeks-NOT!

My lack of success with medication begs the question, if the medication doesn’t work, then what? Is this just the way it’s going to be? Will I ever reach that place of being ok with my grief? It’s too complicated for me to even contemplate. In my mind, being ok with my grief is the same as being okay that Patrick died. I’ll never be okay with that. I’ll never be okay that Patrick died. Counseling will keep trying to unravel that. I think eventually it will, but I will always hold on to that little little shred of equating the two together.

Back to medication. What if it works this time? I’m not holding out much hope as I draw close to the end of week 1. But what if it does? Is it really working? Is it just masking how I feel? My body is begging for serotonin. In the words of my counselor, ‘…if I’ve ever seen anyone in need of serotonin, it’s you.’ Thanks… I’m trying. I’m fighting an uphill battle. The medication causes fatigue, which causes me to not want to go outside and walk, which reduces my chance of getting the serotonin I so desperately need, and since I don’t have enough serotonin, I’m depressed, rinse, lather, repeat–day in and day out. See you again in the morning or in my case lately, early afternoon.

Last week I was suicidal, this week I’m emotionless, maybe next week I’ll be OCD… dear god… what a mess… what a mess… I’d give anything to go back and change things…if I could just change 2 minutes either way… I’d be dealing with a different mess of life right now…

Don’t Pretend to Not Know What You Already Know

I think I got that title right… my friend has been telling me this or something like it for the past several days. It makes perfect sense even if I can’t remember exactly how she said it.

I was diagnosed with PTSD after the accident. I really didn’t know that much about PTSD. Before the accident if someone asked me what it was I would have equated it to something that military personnel are diagnosed with. I’ve since become familiar enough with it to know that anyone that has gone through a traumatic event can be diagnosed with PTSD.

I’ve dealt with the triggers as they came, prepared for some, and dealt with the fallout of when some caught me off guard. I knew going back to elementary school teaching there would be some triggers. I felt a little more prepared this time. Loose teeth… Patrick had 2 loose teeth when he died. Ok I can deal with little kids showing me their loose teeth. Birthdays…kids turning 8. An age Patrick never got to be. A party that we had already starting planning even though it was 6 months out. Ok I can deal with kids turning 8. That’s what kids do. They get a year older every year. I can handle this. Kids being in a rage and hitting me. That is foreign to me. No one has hit me since I got my last spanking at 14. My husband has never hit me. My kids never hit me. I’ve never had anyone so angry with me that they just decided that punching me repeatedly over and over was a good idea… that is until I taught 2nd grade. It was enough to trigger my PTSD, that until that moment, was held in check and well managed.

I knew that day that I was not in the right place, nor was I equipped to handle such behaviors in the classroom. That wasn’t the only behavior I was dealing with in the classroom. However, it is the one that has profoundly affected me. It’s the one that makes me never want to be in a classroom again. It’s the one that makes me want to grab that child’s parent and shake them and ask them what in the hell is going on here that makes your child behave like this. It’s the one that has me pondering and questioning those in authority and why they choose to see this as some kind of normal behavior and suggesting that I just need to deal with it, that somehow it’s my fault.

So back to pretending. I pretended for a few more weeks that I could handle this particular classroom. I was a good teacher. I did know what I was doing(contrary to the belief of some). Those things were real. I am a good teacher. I did know what I was doing. But I couldn’t keep pretending that I was in the right place. I couldn’t keep pretending that I could help this class. I couldn’t keep pretending that I could make a difference. I couldn’t keep pretending that I could do this everyday from 7:30-4:00. So I stopped pretending. Yesterday when I made the decision my body physically relaxed and I felt relief. Today I feel a little sad… I’ll deal with the fallout of knowing I will not be going back into a classroom, losing my income, feeling like I quit or gave up… I’ll deal but I will not pretend.

PTSD: What You Need to Know

Self Care Monday, Pedicures, and Fried Chicken Sandwiches

I went back and looked to see if I had written about self care. I was certain that I had, and I was right.

I’m working on self care again. A lot of times my self care is just a bubble bath, Dateline, and trash TV (which amounts to whatever stupid YouTube videos catch my attention).

I went and got a pedicure today. It felt so good that I decided to get a manicure, too. Later this evening I got to really thinking about self care. When you think about self care, what do you think about? I think I’ve been programmed to think of it as being selfish, taking away from what really needs to be done, putting myself and my needs ahead of other people. Those are the things that usually pop in my head when I hear the phrase, ‘self-care.’

I remember right after Patrick died a group of friends wanted to take me to get a pedicure or at the very least give me a gift card for one. I refused over and over again mostly because I did not want a stranger touching me. I still feel that way but I eventually relented and went and got a pedicure. I don’t need one all the time but when I do go get one, I spring for the most expensive one and I always come out thinking, ‘why did I wait so long to do this?’

Last night I wanted to die, really, really die. The end. We’re done. I was pretty close to the bottom. I somehow managed to fall asleep and wake up this morning. Later today I paid a stranger a wad of cash to rub my legs, feet, hands, paint my toenails and fingernails. You know what? I don’t want to die tonight. Am I still sad and depressed? Yes, but that couple of hours probably saved me from myself today. That and a husband and a best buddy that is here with me, monitoring me, making me check in, reminding me how much I am loved and how much I am still needed here. I still don’t know where to go from here or what to do, but today, right now, I know that I am loved and it is worth it to take a few hours to put myself first. Self care is not selfish. It is life-saving.

Some of my favorite self-care activities: