Mental illness is a tricky thing. You can’t just take an aspirin and feel better. You might be able to take a Zoloft and feel better. But it could take 25mg a day, or 50mg, or up to the maximum daily dosage of 200mg, heck you could even be on 250mg a day like I was for a while, maximum dosage be damned. You might take Zoloft and feel a shit ton worse. You might do talk therapy and be helped tremendously, or you might do talk therapy and find it a total waste of funds. You might even be perfect for talk therapy but the therapist you are seeing might be the absolute wrong person for you. The variables are endless. And the kicker is those who need treatment the most will not typically seek help. I was so bad I couldn’t hold down a job or leave the house when Z told me I had to talk to someone. I continued to insist there wasn’t anything wrong. I would rather have had every person in my life think I was a lazy terrible person rather than face the fact I was crazy. Good times.
Personally, I shy away from the daily drugs. Ultimately, 200mg of Zoloft helped me get much better, but getting there was incredibly painful. It isn’t just that a drug might not work, it might make you much worse and that happened to me on numerous occasions. When you are already crazy and meds make you twelve additional kinds of crazy it really sucks balls. When I started on Abilify I really thought I was at rock bottom. Sadly, that drug proved me wrong. When my anxiety problems worsened after T was born my therapist encouraged me to go back on a low dose of Zoloft. But the thing is there is no guarantee it will work the same way for me again. And I just don’t want to be on a daily drug while I’m pregnant and breast feeding if I can help it. The great news is talk therapy is very effective in my case. Therefore, Z is a really big fan.
So this morning, after snow blowing and shoveling our driveway and digging out my car for two solid hours, when Z came inside and told me he thought I needed to call and cancel my appointment I knew the roads were really bad. Because I was away for all of November I haven’t seen my therapist since the last week of October. Things aren’t terrible for me emotionally, but I could really use a session. Z asked me for a shopping list so he could hit the grocery store on the way home because we were pretty low on food and neither of us felt comfortable with me driving around with T in our lightweight Corolla. As he was getting ready to walk out the door he said to me, “You stuck in the house for days on end, this is your wet dream, isn’t it?” “Yes,” I said, “Yes, it is.”
For the most part I have been loving our crazy weather. We had over ninety hours of continuous snow for a total of 38″+ before a brief break this morning. On Monday Z didn’t go into school and we spent a magical day watching the original Star Wars trilogy in reverse. We (and by we I mean Z) did some snow blowing, I baked some cookies, we got to hang out with our favorite 5 year old who was out of school, we just had really terrific family time. It was one of the happiest days I’ve had in quite a while. But by today snow fatigue was setting in. Being stuck at home doesn’t seem like such a prize anymore.
The thing that makes me feel a tiny bit hopeful is my comfort in not being able to leave the house is actually making me uncomfortable. Today I was so bored with being inside I stared eating and eating and eating. As I was doing it I was so angry at myself, but I just couldn’t get control of myself and stop. And I was actually a bit stir crazy. For a gal with pretty severe agoraphobic tendencies it is huge that I’m not getting unadulterated satisfaction by being stuck at home. Of course the next step is actually doing something about it. Um, I’m not quite there yet.
We had a snow day visitor on Monday. Z is watching The Empire Strikes Back as he dresses T.
Z made a wind chime out of an old fire extinguisher he found at a junkyard. I love the way the snow has piled on top.
Out the front door.