Life (and Lexapro): Days 8 and 9.

Yesterday:

Yesterday was productive. I paid for my puppy (even though I had cold feet) and was nearly instantly overwhelmed with excitement. I'm carrying a picture of her in my purse, and there's one on the fridge. The breeder was going out of town this weekend but said he would check airline schedules for May 3 through May 8 when he gets back home (Monday). That has me motivated to really clean the house and puppy proof; originally I was motivated by the annual Home Inspection the board does in our house. It's May 11, and it's another thing I stopped caring about.

But yesterday was productive. I thoroughly cleaned the kitchen, sweeping and mopping and cleaning the glass doors like I'd been neglecting. I moved the plants from the counters to the floor and cleaned the counters so I could fold laundry. I did several loads of laundry and put them away. Then I had a little personal time with a Dr. Pepper and the fishtank, and helped my husband write a paper.

Today:

Today is not starting so well. It's nearly nine and I just brushed my teeth and washed my face. I didn't shower (second day) because I didn't want to get out of bed. I wasn't sleepy... I just wanted to lay in bed. Sound familiar?

The weather isn't helping. It's just gloomy outside. The baby was still dozing when I went in for her at a quarter after eight. She's dressed and fed, and in another half hour we'll see if the checks are ready to go to the bank.

So I washed my face and brushed my teeth, mostly so my followers won't be disappointed in me (all two of you). I know it's a silly little thing, but at this point I'll take it.

My plan for today is to keep the kitchen clean and continue the laundry. I may try to tackle my office, but more than likely not. Today is going to be hard, so I'm going to keep is simple.

Wish me luck.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 7.

I didn't really get anything done yesterday. I had intentions of getting things done, and I made my list and everything. But I took a nap instead.

I only slept for an hour for two reasons: 1.) That's how long I planned to sleep and my alarm was going off and 2.) my husband called to say the pest control service was on the way to the house. Why do they always swing by when the house is exceptionally filthy?

I dragged myself out of bed and answered the door ("I haven't felt well, lately, and I'm on a medication that makes me sleepy"). He asked if he should come back later. "No, the house is a mess but that isn't really different than usual."

The rest of the afternoon was just a waste. We interviewed a babysitter, and watched tv, and I looked for puppies. When husband went to men's group I fed the baby and gave her a bath, then put her to bed and kept watching tv until he came home. We talked about puppies in bed.

This morning I felt about the same as previous mornings. I got up, showered, got dressed, got the baby dressed and fed, and we drove to a well-baby visit. She got three shots and is still sleeping, poor little thing.

When I got her into bed I started called breeders (I'd narrowed it down to two); the first one was really helpful and talked my ear off about puppies and the South and everything else. She called them "babies" at all times, and it was adorable. The second spoke with my husband last night and I clarified a few things this afternoon.

I decided to go with the second, because my husband really preferred the markings on his puppy and he matched the price of the first; other than price (and markings) they were practically identical. I'm going to pay for her today or tomorrow, and she'll be shipped to us sometime in the next few weeks.

Even though I've been searching for one for a long time, and even though that's sort of what got me into this whole mess in the first place, I'm not sure I'm making the right decision.

I don't know if I have the energy for a puppy. I'm going to have to keep the house REALLY clean; I've gotten spoiled to the dog I have, I guess, and a puppy will be a rude awakening. My dog doesn't chew up baby toys or bottle; he eats food off the counter, if you turn your back, but we've adjusted to that. The puppy will never be big enough to eat food from the counter, so I suppose we'll adjust to her just the same way.

I'm hoping that she'll give me a jump-start: I'll have to clean because she'll eat things, otherwise. I'll have to go outside and walk because she needs it. And I'll have a better reason for going to the doggie class, because she won't know anything.

It sounds perfect on paper, doesn't it?

I do feel a little ambitious, so I'm going to go right now and clean the guest bathroom.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 6.

Today is not impossible.

It is raining, off and on, and my parents have gone home. I thought I would be relieved, but really I'm just a little sad.

I never talked to my mom about what was going on... just told her about the medicine and left it at that.

I never told my dad I was on medication... just talked about how I felt, and moved on with life.

Last night we were all super-productive. My husband and Dad put up the curtain rod that's been under the carport for well over a year, and I immediately washed and dried and put the curtains up, too. My paneled walls look a little like swiss cheese from the nails I drove, removed, and drove again, but now everything is just where it needs to be. I moved paintings and hung pictures and put pictures in empty frames.

No more procrastinating. No more half-started, half-finished projects. Well... "no more" may be a little ambitious. But at least not as many.

I finished everything on my list yesterday, but it was after 7 so I skipped the nap. I did a tremendous amountof planting and transplanting, then all of the work I already mentioned in the kitchen/dining room. I cheated and let the curtains count as a load of laundry, but I still washed enough jeans and socks and undies to get us well-stocked again. Now I'm washing guest towels to go in the basket on my new fancy shelf that Dad put up in the guest bathroom for me.

I liked yesterday's list, so I'm going to make one for today, too.

-Clean the guest bathroom. I've been putting it off, and it needs to be done. This includes putting the towels on the shelf.

-Fold the clean laundry. Laundry does not belong sprawled across the top of the dryer, and especially not the top of the washer AND dryer. Also, I should put it away when it's folded.

-Wash the dishes. Simple, right? Needs to be done. It was probably the first thing to go, when everything took a turn for the worst. Mostly because I sort of hate it.

And a long-term goal, something that should have let us all know that I wasn't feeling like myself: Take down the Christmas decorations. Lasting through January is fine, and even stretching into February could be alright, if they were particularly beautiful. My goal is to have them gone by May, which gives me about ten days.

Wish me luck.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 5.

Today is impossible.

It's overcast and drippy, the perfect recipe for climbing into bed and sleeping all day. And since I went out this morning (dressed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to two garden stores/nurseries and had lunch with husband and others) then I feel a little entitled to a bit of a nap. So I'm going to make a list, and when I've finished those things then I can nap.

-Hang picture frames. I bought several yesterday to hang in a cluster, then arranged them and rearranged them on the kitchen floor. I like them, now. So they need to get on the wall before they get broken.

-Repot my plants. They need bigger pots, and then they need to come inside because the temp is dropping tonight. I just need to understand that they are pretty much houseplants and won't enjoy living on my sunny deck, no matter how much I want them to.

-Run three loads of laundry. We're out of nearly everything, and it needs to be done.

If I can do those few things, then I think that will have been a productive day. My sweet husband cleaned the whole kitchen while we were at church yesterday, and it was just the best surprise to come home to see. He said he didn't do it to help me (which hurt my feelings) but because it needed to be done; apparently "dirty dishes in the sink" makes him have a "depressed feeling."

I need to learn to accept help, no matter the form it comes in or the spirit behind it. Help is help is help, and right now I need help.

Yesterday:

We spent the afternoon in the city engaging in a little retail therapy. I bought a little purple pot for my wandering jew sprigs that have rooted in the mushroom jar in my kitchen window. While I'm repotting, I plan on potting that one too. I also bought a pretty little wind chime and a monogrammed apron. There were other things, of course, but those were my "happys."

Also, yesterday, I understood that this phase of my life has been a long time coming. I've been tapping the reserves for who knows how long, getting an occasional recharge here or there as they came along, but mostly just running on fumes. My reserves were tapped out.

"I feel emotionally tired," I remember saying more than once in the past few months. That was a clue, but we couldn't understand it. The nights when husband went to men's group and I couldn't wait to put the baby to bed so I could have a few hours alone to watch tv or surf the web were a clue, but I didn't realize it. And all those times that I had to will myself to get up, to put my shoes on, to unload the groceries, to get out of the car, to walk across the house... those were all clues, and next time I'll be better prepared.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 4.

Today I feel better. I can't describe it, unless it's like a film or haze has cleared and everything is just a little more clear. Or maybe I feel lighter. Or maybe I just feel rested.

I slept much better last night. I woke up twice, the first time at 5:23 and the second time at 6. I rolled over once each time, and kept sleeping. A vast improvement over the last few nights when I woke up every half hour and tossed and turned in between.

This morning I've showered and dressed and eaten a bowl of cereal, even though I wasn't really hungry. I figured maybe I'd be hungry by lunch if I went ahead and ate a little something now.

I'm going to church with my parents and my baby; my husband is working, so we'll meet up with him for lunch later. I don't particularly care to go, but I'm supposed to be doing stuff, and this counts as well as anything else. Besides, I definitely have to go to the grocery store today after skipping yesterday.

Last night was uneventful; I apologized for abandoning them and giving up and we talked a little about feelings. Then they watched the baseball game (apparently it was a good one) and I searched puppies (I found a few). They stayed up to watch Chonda Pierce on the Wanda Sykes show; I fell asleep on the floor.

It was nice.

I feel like I have a little momentum, this morning, and I'm hoping it lasts for the whole day. I'd really love to finish up some work in the garden and make it look nice enough to take a picture; my rose bush looks just like my memory of the roses in Alice in Wonderland.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 3.

So maybe I'm milking this a little.

Yesterday I found myself crippled without my husband, something that has happened before but never because I let it. Then I was mad at him for "not being there" when I needed him. He is more understanding of me, now, and I'm taking advantage of him.

It isn't nice, and I need to stop.

It's just such a relief to finally understand what's wrong, and to have a medication for it. It's not just nameless anger and sinking spells. It's not just having my feelings hurt and curling into a ball for the rest of the day. It's a real problem, my doctor says, and I'm not crazy. It isn't because I'm a bad person, or a bad mom. I'm a woman with hormones, and this is what happens sometimes.

That's what she said. (HA!)

I didn't sleep well again last night; it's like I can't find a comfortable place in the bed, and nothing is the right temperature. Two nights ago I blamed it on the cat for sleeping on my feet and biting me when I tried to move him. I kicked him out, last night, but still had trouble sleeping. Also, I feel the jitters this morning. Or maybe my skin is crawling... I'm not sure. I know that my arms feel like they're moving, only they aren't moving on their own and I'm not moving them. I think it'll go away.

Last night we were almost asleep when my husband asked if I'd taken my medicine. I told him I did right after supper (which was around 9 because my family was late; I took it around 10) and that's why I was so sleepy. Then he asked if I took all my medicine. I told him yes.

"Even the vitamin?"

"Yes."

I liked it, him checking on me like that. He usually doesn't give a toss about whether I take my vitamin or birth control or anything.

Afternoon:

I'm tired of being told what to do. Seriously.

I'm tired of getting a hope in my head, or an idea, and being told "That's a bad idea. Don't do it. You can't. I won't let you."

Somewhere between getting married, getting a degree, holding down a job and birthing a child I thought I was an adult. I thought I was capable of making my own decisions. So to be told a flat-out "No" is pretty crushing at this point. I don't mind being told "I know you think this is a good idea, but let's consider the options" or "Weren't you holding out for something better?"

Nos are killing me.

I support everyone in everything they do, and even if I don't support them I at least disagree gently. "That wouldn't be my first choice, but good luck" or "I hope that works out for you" or something along those lines. I also make it a general rule not to say "I told you so," unless its something silly.

"I laid on the dock without sunscreen and fell asleep and now my skin hurts!"

"I told you so."

Something like that I'm not above. But anything else... I feel like it's important for people to find their own way. I'll share my thoughts or life experiences if they ask, but I'm not one to just push my wisdom on anyone.

I encourage poor decisions.

And I guess that since I do that for other people that I expect them to do that for me. Just because she can't have a dog right now doesn't mean I shouldn't get a puppy that's on craigslist for the third time. Clearly this pup needs me, and I need him. "There's obviously a problem." No, I can help him. "You have a baby." But he's just 10 weeks old. He's a baby. "Don't get that dog."

What am I supposed to do? I can't have the dog I want, and can't have the dog I don't want, and I'm miserable without any dogs. I'm stuck, stuck right here where dogs need me and I need them and neither of us can have the other.

Evening:

At 6:15 I gave up.

I love my family, but having them here completely throws me out of any sort of routine, and at this point I really sort of need a routine. I suffered through a movie that I love, struggling to keep my eyes open because I didn't do anything to need a nap. I've been really sleepy the past two days, and I don't know if it's the medicine or the fact that I spent four days sleeping (and countless naps before that) that's got me messed up. When we were supposed to get up and go to the grocery store, my mom stretched out on the sofa and my dad started buffing scratches out of the car door.

So I was frustrated.

I made it through supper (I ate green beans and a roll because I wasn't hungry; I don't know if it's the medicine because it started before then) then excused myself.

"Are you sick?"

"I don't feel a hundred percent."

I went to the bedroom, turned off the light, crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my face. I don't know how long I was in there, but I woke up when my husband dumped my baby in the bed with me. He told me to get up, and I told him I didn't want to. Admittedly, I was acting pretty childish. It's like now that I have an actual problem, I feel entitled to the symptoms.

"You shouldn't have had me in the room with the doctor," he said and he was right; if I wanted to get away with anything, he needed to be in the dark.

Better luck next time.

Life (and Lexapro): Day 2.

This is my journey of Life (and Lexapro).

I thought this was all happening because of a puppy. I felt silly for lying in bed despairing over my lack of puppy. The doctor assured me I wasn't crazy; I never told her about the puppy.

My husband decided when enough was enough. Turns out it's four days of lying in bed and not eating. (He doesn't know I wasn't eating.) Yesterday was our wedding anniversary (Happy Linen, Silk Anniversary!); we pulled money from savings to have a nice supper at the catfish house, then opened a bottle of wine we'd been saving since September. We laid on the swing in the backyard, after the baby went to bed, and watch dusk creep into dark.

I told him I was sorry about the puppy, and sorry for being so ridiculous. He told me he'd noticed the symptoms before the puppy was ever a thought in my head. My family was coming to visit, and I didn't clean. I always clean. I didn't think anything about it; I just didn't want to clean.

And that's how he knew something was wrong.

He made the appointment with the doctor. My OBGYN, really. And though it takes a month's notice to get an exam, she had him bring me that afternoon. She asked what was going on.

"I stopped brushing my teeth."

That was my clue that something, somewhere wasn't right. Sure, I'd skip a day now and again on a lazy Saturday or something. But for the past week I'd only brush my teeth if I knew I was going somewhere. To meet with the preacher, I brushed my teeth. To meet with the doctor, I brushed my teeth. To go to the bank, or get groceries, or anything else, I didn't brush my teeth. I barely changed out of pajamas, in most cases.

I told her about brushing my teeth, and about wearing pajamas for days at a time. She's a sweet lady; she nodded and mhmmed and listened to my husband talk.

"She's stopped cleaning," he said. It sounded like a jerk thing to say; she doesn't know that I clean, especially when family comes over. But he's right... the house is filthy and I don't care.

She talked to me about anti-depressants, and about depression, and told me I wasn't crazy. I didn't think I was crazy, but I wasn't entirely sure I still existed, either. I could feel myself wasting away. I told my husband I wanted birth control for my heart: something to make it barren, void of life, so I couldn't feel things anymore. It made perfect sense to me. He said he didn't want that at all. Neither of us told that part to the doctor.

She told me how the pills would help me feel better, but that I'd have to do my part. The pills were tools and wouldn't accomplish anything on their own. I'd have to do things too, like taking a shower in the morning. It's funny how such a silly little routine thing suddenly becomes the light at the end of the tunnel. Then she told me to go outside.

"We've been going to the park," I told her. At my yearly check-up we talked about my weight and high blood pressure, and she suggested I go for walks around the camp. "We've gone to the park several times in the past week," I said. "And I really thought about going for walks around camp. I would give the baby her breakfast and get her dressed and everything would be ready... but it was just too hard to put my shoes on. I didn't want to put my shoes on. So I'd take a nap instead." (My baby takes two, two-hour naps during the day. I was doing the same, but my afternoon nap sometimes stretched into supper.)

That got a nod and an mhmm.

It's alright to take a nap once in a while. But two naps and sleeping all night is excessive. That's when she told me I was in a deep depression, and that's when I really felt like things were going to get better. She was taking me seriously, and I appreciated that.

That was Day 1 on Lexapro. Another tiny white pill in my life, taken in the car on the way home.

So I'm supposed to take a shower in the mornings. I didn't today, but I washed my face and brushed my teeth and put on clothes. It all took about half an hour, but I got it done. I even put clothes on the baby; she's been in pajamas for several days, too. After breakfast (I didn't eat because I'm not hungry) I put her in the wagon and put the dog on a leash and we walked down to Cabins 1 and 2 to see my husband. I don't know what they're doing down there, but there were volunteers and mosquitoes. Husband suggested I enjoy my walk, then he mapped out a little path I should take.

"I don't want to."

"Okay."

It's silly, I know, but I felt just a surge of love and relief when he didn't push me to walk his path. I'd gotten up and out and walked down to see him, and then I walked home. His paycheck was ready, so I drove to the bank. And now the baby's sleeping, and I'm supposed to be doing something for myself.

"Do you scrapbook?" the doctor asked.

"I have all the stuff, I just never do."

I guess right now I'm supposed to be scrapbooking, but instead I'm writing this blog. I think it's pretty much the same thing.

I'm also supposed to join a group. There's not a whole lot going on in this little town of mine. I used to work Saturday mornings at the vet, but he hasn't needed me lately. I really enjoy it: light reception work with lots of dogs and lots of people. Yesterday we stopped to look at a tool sale, and a lady walked through with a dog bowl.

"Is that for me?" the tool guy asked. The woman fake laughed.

"No, it's for my dog class," she said.

I wanted to know more. But I didn't want to talk to her. I wanted to get in the car and drive away.

"I'll go with you," my husband said, and we walked over together. Then he did all the talking, because he loves me. It's just a basic obedience class, nothing real fancy. My dog already knows basic obedience, but I want to join anyway. It'll be a group (just like the doctor said) and it'll be people with dogs. And I can learn things, and my dog can learn things; he's not perfect after all. He can sit and stay and lay down and roll over, but he can't walk (nicely) on a leash and he's not good at meeting new dogs. He doesn't try to hurt them, he just pulls and lunges and is a little overbearing.

So anyway, that's my plan for a group. The people yesterday were my grandparents' age and all had tiny, fussy dogs. My big lab will cause a stir, and it'll be great fun. And maybe I can learn how to show, or do agility. And maybe she'll say "You're brilliant! And such a natural; want to be my assistant?"

And I'll say yes.

UPDATE:

I wanted to wait and update tomorrow, but I'm sure tomorrow will be filled with its own misadventures. I read up a little on my new white pill today; it struck me odd, somewhere around midmorning, that my doctor told me to shower and scrapbook but never gave me instructions on my new medication. She gave me five sample packs, all of which say "See package insert for instructions" and none of which have package inserts.

What I read online was not comforting.

Apparently I can have nausea, dizziness, loss of appetite, jitters, drowsiness, or a whole host of other symptoms. I don't know if I should take it in the morning (as some said their doctors recommended) or at night, when I take my other pills. Do I need to take it with food, or is an empty(ish) stomach okay?

After reading and talking to other folks who used it, I've decided to take it at night, with my other meds, and adjust as side effects occur.

After reading about people zonking out in the middle of the day, I got super tired at 2:37. I really could have taken a good nap, but it's sort of against the rules now, so I went outside to clean up under the carport. I put a few things away, then got overwhelmed and went inside. But I was still sleepy, so I laid on the couch and read a book. I decided that served the purpose of fake napping (which was all I ever did anyway) and having a little personal time.

It's now a quarter after five, and my husband isn't home from work yet. I'm annoyed, but I was really counting on him to help me do things today. I need his help under the carport, because I don't know where to put things. And I need his help in the house, because I a.) can't figure out where to start and b.) need help wrangling the kid. My parents will be here in a few hours, and the house is filthy.

And mostly I don't care.

But I know my mom is going to swoop in and start cleaning stuff, and then I'll get pissed, and then I'll end up lying in bed with the covers over my face just like I did for four days. The naps were never about sleeping... they were about hiding from the things that needed doing, that I didn't want to get done.

I don't like being overwhelmed. I don't like not knowing where or how to start. I don't like freezing up and quitting. So right now I'm going to go outside, take the boxes I loaded in the wagon down to the mystery shed, and load it up again.

I can do this. I just have to remember how.