I saw the midwife about my migraines a few weeks ago, and she recommended that I increase my Zoloft from 25 to 50 mg, because sometimes Zoloft can prevent migraines. It didn't, but I have kept taking 50 mg because sometimes Zoloft takes a long time to work, and she didn't give me any time frame on when to expect things to get better. She also didn't change my prescription, so when I tried to refill it last week (much earlier than the one-month-supply allowed by insurance should have run out) I got a voicemail from the pharmacy saying, "We're trying to contact your insurance company, your refill has been delayed, we'll call you when it's ready,"). Consequently, I didn't have my medicine from last Friday till Monday of this week.
Just long enough to screw me up.
It's not a good time, historically speaking, to be off my meds. It feels like the world is on fire, and the crushing guilt of having brought three children into a world that is so profoundly screwed up is weighing on me. I think it's worse now that I have a draftable child. Jack was about 2 days old when I realized that he could grow up, go to war, and get killed. I was alone in the hospital at the time, and it hit me like a Mack truck. My head is a horrible place to have to live sometimes. (Yay, Zoloft.)
I think to myself, "What are the odds that I can keep three kids healthy and safe until they're grown? Statistically it's inevitable that one of them will get really sick, or really hurt, or worse, before I die. How will I cope with that?" The only thing keeping me sane is that my brother, sister, and I have managed so far without serious illness or injury. If my parents did it, maybe we can too,
I think to myself, "How on earth are they ever going to have a good life, with the national debt, the world running out of oil and clean water, corrupt and stupid politicians running everything, the recession, jobs going (gone) overseas, the environment, global warming..." I can go down that rabbit hole for hours, mentally listing everything that's wrong with the world. The only thing that keeps me sane is thinking that the world was pretty screwed up in the 1970s, too. My parents despaired over the world they'd brought us into (I know, I've asked) with Vietnam and the energy crisis and everything that happened in that decade, and we're ok. And my grandparents, coming out of World War II, (or BJ's coming out of the Great Depression) probably worried about the world they'd brought their kids into, too, and they're ok. So maybe my kids will be ok, too.
And then there are more local concerns... My job. Oy. Don't even get me started. And how long do I really think I can keep this up, with the three small kids and the working and the trying to keep the house from looking like a bomb went off? How long can I sustain this level of activity before I crash, before I just pull the covers over my head and refuse to get out of bed for a week? But I can't - I don't have that choice - I have to keep going for them. For BJ. There are too many people counting on me to be sane and functioning and somewhat cheerful, now. I don't have the luxury of being able to check out anymore. I feel like a hamster on a wheel, sometimes. I run all day, yet I'm standing still. The black cloud that follows me is that I'm letting all of them down - BJ, the kids, my family of origin, my friends, you readers. The evil voice in the back of my mind constantly chants, "You're ruining everything. You've let them down. You're not good enough. You never deserved any of this, and now you've ruined it, just like everyone knew you would, just like you knew you would. You're a failure at this, at everything."
But then the rational part of me takes over, and says, "Everyone's fine. You're fine. The house isn't that bad. The job stuff will work out. You can't do anything about the national debt or the environment, so you might as well not worry about it until it's time to vote. Just keep swimming, it'll be ok. You'll feel better in a few days." And so I put my head down, and I keep swimming, because I don't have any other choice. I hold my kids, and I hope that they'll have a part in fixing all the things I worry about, somehow. And when they're asleep, I whisper, "I'm sorry, for everything."
5 comments:
Do not apologize to us readers, for starters! Blogs are meant to be an aside, not something to stress about. Seriously.
Your family is (more or less!) healthy and happy. Take joy in that, Amy!
I've been there, more times than can be counted. Luckily, I learned long ago that there are always better, brighter, more beautiful days...usually just minutes or hours away. Just hold on when you're in that funk until the light shines again.
That sounds like hard work, I hope they get your prescription sorted ASAP and you end up back on a bit more of an even keel. And I agree, blogs are meant to be a stress release, not an added stress! You are a great mum (mom!).
I reject your bad mommy label on this post & on you in general! Bah!! And seriously, this blog should never EVER be a source of stress in your life.
I'm so sorry you're fighting demons, Amy, but please know that we are here to give (virtual) hugs & support. I am a better mom because I know you & shamelessly steal your techniques...you can't possibly be screwing everything up or I'd run the other way! :)
Sending lots of positive chi your way.
We all struggle with these things. It's small comfort, but because you're worrying, you're probably doing a lot better than you think.
Also, try Lexapro over Zoloft. Newer drug, better medicine, not as harsh withdrawal compared with Zoloft when you are without. And a pharmacy can dispense a few days worth of drugs to you to get you through until your insurance approves the change. Ask about that if you're ever in a bind again. (You might pay retail vs your reduced cost, but it's worth it over withdrawal symptoms.)
GOOD LUCK!
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