Equilibrium, Fragile

A lot has happened since my last post. No, I don’t mean in my life, I mean in my mental state. Last weekend my kid spent Saturday night at my mom’s and for whatever unknown reason…I kicked into super high gear and got a ton of housework done, even catching up on some long depression delayed thing around the house. Ans thing was…It was boring, of course, cos I hate housework,  but I wasn’t weighted down so much that it felt grueling. And I actually felt the sense of accomplishment afterward.

And bubbling beneath the surface the terror of when I’d go “splat”.

No one can fathom what life is like when equilibrium is so delicate. You feel fine, until you don’t. You feel good…until you don’t. Tiny little things can undo what was so hard fought for.

But going into Monday, I did not go splat.

I started writing again for the first time in 2 years. And that too was fragile, waiting for the block to happen, terrified all the little hassles of life would throw my off balance.

But I wrote 15 pages Monday. I wrote again on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Over 100 pages in under a week. Not my best work because I am in the hellish withdrawal state from Pristiq and I’m bobbing between being half manic and feeling half conscious. It’s hard to explain what anti depressant withdrawal feels like. I can say that sometimes I feel like I am in moving car when in fact I not moving at all. The tension headaches in the muscles of my eyes are awful. I find myself grasping for basic words and can’t be sure if that is withdrawal or the condition itself or artifact from all the meds I am on to treat it. Even the flavor and texture of food has become gross.

But I quit the weaning doses last week and have been toughing out all the wonkiness. No point in going back because it’s just gonna be the same way. Rip off the bandage.

What is weirdest though is how solid I felt all week. Not happy. And oh, dear, not lacking anxiety even though this week R didn’t hound me to be at the shop except for Friday so I was getting my anxiety freak outs from my neighbor’s barking dog and my kid bickering with her devil friends. And you don’t want that when dealing with creativity or mental disorder because the tiniest bit of upheaval can bring it all crashing down.

It was a nice respite, not being pulled in ten different directions by R, not having money thus not having to endure the dish…Able to lose myself in my writing, yet still lucid and functional enough to deal with being a mom and taking care of the house and cats. It was a little like someone just “lifted” a heavy layer of gauze off my brain. I don’t confuse stability with happiness, I still think the Welbutrin needs increased, but wow. What a difference a season makes. I honestly think my bipolar is tied more to seasons and temperature than it is light. Not that a shrink will ever admit that. They’d have to pay homage to circadian rhythms. (Cripes, I had to look up how to spell  rhythms cos my brain just keeps blacking out on certain words, grr.) Ya know, rather than worship at the altar of big pharma and “it’s all your fault so go pay for someone to tell you how screwed up you are.”

This week alone, even with the season change, I found out just how sensitive I am to temperature extremes and shifts. Monday it was damn near 80 degrees and 87 percent humidity, we were melting like the wicked witch. Tuesday and Wednesday cool to the sixties but remained sunny. Thursday it dropped way down and rained, no sun til afternoon, and by then it was so cold when I went to pick my kid up, I was actually shivering in my hoodie. And then bam, Friday we are back to warm warm warm and I didn’t feel so lethargic or compelled to curl up under a blanket.

I don’t know that I will ever truly be helped by a doctor because they don’t want to admit the importance of these things. Even when carrying on about seasonal affect disorder, they lay it all on lack of sunlight which for me is maybe an eighth of  it. The neverending temperature extremes are my bete noire. Short of physically relocating, I think I am doomed to the depressive cycles.

I got off track somewhere…Oh, well.

Bottom line is, it was a better week than I’ve had in some time. And woo hoo, to be writing again…It’s like I was unplugged and now I am plugged in.

I do wonder how much is related to the season change, or going off Pristiq or going back on lithium. Who knows. I’d like to figure out the winning formula. I’d also like to be 25 again and have my boobs where they used to be so…

Aside from the improvement in my mental state (functional is better than crippling depression, even if it’s not quite happy) the only other news from my crypt is our cat Pantera had 4 kittens yesterday. I named 3. Wrath, Venom, Slash. Healthy little buggers, The 4th one I promised I’d let the spawn name. Last night she called and said she wanted to name it Rose. Or maybe Random. God knows what it will be today. This name changing shit was how we got a cat named Feet, I got irked and said “Change the cat’s name on more time and I am just gonna call it Feet.” And  she did and so I did. Queen Neferfeeti.

I swear before I have a cat named Rose I will call it Gargamel Gay Gray Socks. I can’t stand boring names.

 

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3 Responses to “Equilibrium, Fragile”

  1. Queen Neferfeeti is a brilliant cat name. You could go with Franklin D. Rose-a-cat. Or Air-rose-totle.

  2. OH! If it’s a girl you could do Marilyn Mon-Rose, or J.K. Rose-ling…

  3. All was going fine, then…. Major crapstorm bad deal
    Anxiety hell, body has officially broken down (in the worse way) and approaching some heavy weeks

    Now i have no hope, zero trust in my body, ability and anything resembling positivity, and the world still needs and expects super hero me

    Call the cat Lilith, send it here and i can have an actual demon digging it’s claws into my flesh!!

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