The past few months have ushered in a quiet phase for me.
I have been asked how the Nice plan unfolded. Well, that in and of itself is a story.
The bottom line is I am a helluva lot nicer.
The long story is I took extreme measures to get there. Well, extreme for me. The truth is Darling is working very hard these days. It is what it is and it is not going to change for another year or so. It has been this way for a couple years. About 18 months ago, I remember standing at my friend's kitchen island and saying I could feel the stress changing me and I did not like it.
I did not like it.
The stress of being the single mom with three kids and a husband wore me down to the point where I would daydream about going to sleep and being in bed for an indefinite amount of time. I would drive past a big tree and the thought would cross my mind that if I slammed into it with the car I could buy myself some rest time in the hospital.
Um, that is not okay... just in case you wondered.
At my annual lady visit, I finally asked my OB/GYN for some meds to take the edge off my stress. This is my doctor who delivered Middle One, shepherded me through two miscarriages and three D&C's in one year, and guided me through pregnancy with Little One. Over the past eight years, she has had occasion to ask me if I needed "help" or something to help with my blues. I always turned her down.
I turned her down because 30 minutes of hard exercise could lift my mood for a couple days. I turned her down because a long talk with a girlfriend could lift my mood and pull me out of the blues. I turned her down because I felt the tools I had to lift myself continued to work.
And then they did not work anymore.
By this winter, 30 minutes of exercise lifted me for an hour, not days. Talking with a girlfriend became an in-the-moment ease of worry and the long-lasting effects evaporated. Eating better did not help. Getting more sleep did not help. Adjusting how Darling and I tried to get things done around here did not help. Falling on my knees and giving it to God did not offer the long-lasting heart-lift it used to offer.
And then I needed to start looking for a job.
I had to look for daycare options for Little One.
More stress. Heartache.
So at my appointment, I asked for help. I asked for help.
My doctor asked at least 20 questions to assess my needs. I told her I needed a little help for the next year or so and we agreed that this would be a short-term plan until Darling's work load subsided and things got back to normal. She prescribed Celexa, warned me that the first two weeks might be rough (fatigue, nausea), but by the end of two weeks, I should feel great.
I went to Target pharmacy, paid my $10 for 3 months' worth of daily meds, went home and took one before bedtime.
An amazing thing happened. Aside from the crippling fatigue and near-pregnancy nausea, I felt like "me" again. I could actually think again. The words and thoughts in my head no longer felt like a jumble of words, words, emotions, words, words, words, but rather a linear pattern I could decipher.
The best and the worst part? The first few days slayed me. Darling and I would have a conversation and I would watch him visibly recoil, waiting for me to fly off the handle at him. The kids seemed to brace themselves for me to start yelling. I did not, however, fly off the handle. I did not, however, start yelling at the kids.
I was back. *I* was back.
I have always been anti-meds. If natural, non-medicinal methods can do the same thing, do them. I delivered all my children, including my pitocin-induced baby, without pain meds. I had researched the tools, practiced the tools, and used the tools to do it without medicine. That philosophy served me well for years. For most of my life, medicine has not really been necessary. It was necessary here.
It brought me back. It gave me myself back. It gave Darling his wife back and gave my children their mother back.
By the end of the two weeks, I felt great. I feel like me again. I did not realize how un-me I had become until I got "me" back. It has been a lot to process, a lot of consider, and a lot to experience.
And that is why I have not had a whole lot to say.