This blog entry is crap. It’s primarily about me moaning and complaining, but i don’t care. I’m only writing this shit down so i can look at it later – frankly for reasons unknown.
I’ve had a bad week. Sucky. Rotten. Familiar.
I had been feeling OK. About 4 weeks into the new anti-depressant (Viibryd). Maybe feeling a bit hypomanic as i made the impulsive decision to paint the carport. Not unexpectedly or surprising – a simple paint job that turned into a major project with me finding a rotten board and ending with me tearing down a corner of the carport and rebuilding it. Had to tear out 4 x 4 studs and replace, had to remove siding and replace, had to turn a simple thing into a big hole that suddenly became impossible to stay interested in and finish.
So, when plans where made for myself and my two siblings to descend on my mother for her 75th birthday, I thought a little time away from here would be helpful – help me re-focus.
My sister and I drove together the three hours to Virginia, my brother came down out of the West Virginia mountains. We generally get along OK but my brother and sister have always clashed a bit and I fell into the old role of mediator. Mostly to decrease the stress and strain on the old folks, because my little sister has learned a little self-reliance over the years and doesn’t take his shit – really just annoying poking and annoyance that older brothers sometimes dish out to younger siblings. But still, I had to be ON, be prepared to tell him to cut the crap. Peacemaker – my expected role.
NOTHING major happened. We visited, put the crab pots in for blue crabs, made elaborate meal plans. Both my brother and I like to cook and usually use these get togethers to fix our best stuff. Fish, crab imperial, shrimp, veggies on the grill. Good eats.
My brother and I spent time together – getting stoned, swimming in the creek, laughing and reminiscing. The old folks seemed happy. Really – nothing bad happened. But I felt like an actor. Being who I was expected to be.
I’m still not sleeping well. Awakening every night between 3 and 4 am and then sleeping fitfully until my eyes fly open at first light ( ready or not).
By day 2 i was feeling the doom creep into my mood. Started feeling like I had to get away, get home. But the plan was to stay another day and drive back the following day. I managed to keep it together mostly but by day 2 1/2 i was seeking solitude, hiding, withdrawing. Couldn’t find anything to talk about, stayed outside smoking cigarettes and watching the water in the creek.
Finally, totally exhausted, my sister and I came home. The next day my mood crashed, hard. Same old shit. Tearful, immobile, bad sense of dread and thoughts turning to bad ideas ( OD’ing). People write about the feeling of deja-vu in their blogs. It’s true and frightening (then not) how familiar the path becomes from relative OKness to active planning, knowing once a decision is made I rarely veer from it. (Clearly not successful in the past.)
Unexpectedly, I did “something reasonable” and called Dr. S’nG (shrink).
“I’m calling because i’m crashing again.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, nothing.” I’m thinking to myself – no, I’m just a stupid twit who can’t enjoy a normal family gathering with normal people without falling apart.
“Well, increase the Viibryd to 30mg (from 20mg) for a few days, then go up to 40mg per day. Call if it gets worse.”
“Sure, sure.”But will I? I only call him when things are going south. I didn’t tell him about the return of my S.I. and he didn’t ask. I also didn’t tell him about Wolf whispering “Just do it, you stupid cunt.”
So, now it’s Sunday morning. The paint remains in the can. I can’t be bothered.
The anti-depressant (i think) has caused me to have nightmares (another good reason not to sleep), i’m nauseous, have major diarrhea, and little appetite (this is OK, as I am fat and need to lose weight.)
I’m also to start seeing a new therapist tomorrow – this may be why I have diarrhea. Stresssing over nothing. Yea – life -why? Doc.