Broken Storm
A monsoon storm hits Tucson with billowing anticipation. The day starts out with perfect blue skies and excessive heat. In the late morning, a small, puffy white cloud appears above the Catalina Mountains. Another one pops up over the Rincons.
If those clouds are going to burst into a storm, they build all afternoon. Huge, beautiful, looming towards the city and darkening quickly.
Then the wind starts. Sudden heavy gusts. The crossroads of the storm.
If we’re lucky, the clouds burst. Rain beats down, and the rumbles of thunder shake the earth. Success.
On the unlucky days, the wind breaks up the carefully formed thunderhead clouds, and the storm collapses before it ever has the chance to hit.
Today was one of the unlucky days.
The storm fizzled out just as I was waiting to talk to my psychiatrist about some increasing problems I’ve been having.
The insomnia. Some mild paranoia. Anxiety. That hazy, dreamlike feeling when I start feeling overwhelmed. Nothing constant, but it’s been creeping up on me when I’m feeling stressed. Lately, I’ve been stuck under an avalanche, but I don’t think it’s because the situation around me is getting tougher to deal with. It’s because I am starting to pull back into that wicked cyclone of postpartum depression.
Not as bad as before, but still a couple steps back from where I was when I was doing very well.
James noticed it this week and called my psychiatrist to get my antidepressant dosage checked. Is this normal, or a sign that I’m not responding correctly to the treatment?
I felt like that impending storm that I was looking forward to broke before it ever had the chance to rain down some relief. Hope was replaced by that familiar tingling fear on the back of my neck when I heard the words, “A different drug in addition to the one you’re on.”
I reminded her I am breastfeeding, and she said that we’ll just stick with the Prozac for now. But an upped dosage.
I left the appointment with a written prescription and my head hung low.
In the car ride over to the pharmacy, I had a talking-to with myself. Who cares if I’m a nutzo for talking to myself?
“Dammit, why am I such a freaking mess?”
I wanted to cry, but I had no tears.
Current Mood:
Sad
Tags: Depression, Prozac
May 29th, 2009 at 4:43 pm
you aren’t a nutzo for talking to yourself…okay, well if you are then i am too, and somehow that makes it all better. (i swear) (((hugs))) i hope the upped dose works.
May 29th, 2009 at 7:54 pm
Good for you for going and getting checked out. Who cares if you’re on another drug for now. The bigger picture, you being happy and healthy, is much more important than how you go about getting there. And I talk to myself all the time.
May 29th, 2009 at 7:55 pm
(edited) ha I meant who cares if you’re on an upped dosage for now!
May 29th, 2009 at 11:05 pm
These are the moments to be extra kind to yourself. Your body/self is talking to you and is asking to be taken care of in whatever way works. Also – what’s happening now isn’t what’s happening forever. You only need to get through one breath at a time. Please read the paper on the oven – out loud – every day – it really helps me. I love you. You’re perfect.
May 30th, 2009 at 9:08 am
My depression/ocd/anxiety comes like the tide. Somedays are great others I have to work harder at. It is so easy to get sucked back into the old way of thinking and feeling. If you get stuck on a thought try the tools that have been given to you. If your mood needs a lift try changing the scenery. I know that these things are not easy and none of us are perfect. We get through the day and night one moment at a time. I tell myself, ok so maybe this moment sucks .. the next moment will be better. I am glad ya’ll noticed the change. People in my immediate circle seem to be entranced with their own issues to notice that I have been battling a raging war.
May 30th, 2009 at 9:10 am
I meant to add that things for me are no where near where they were when I was at the bottom. You have come a long way too. Don’t forget it!