My first day on Zoloft went fine, you know, aside from the nausea, anal leakage and the fact that looking at words of any shape or size made me want to barf. After a couple days, I began to notice that I wasn't really able to stay awake for much longer than a few hours at a time, so I switched to taking it before bed and that's definitely helped.
Not that I've been able to sleep! Insomnia has been a huge piece of my anxiety, so along with the Zoloft, the doctor prescribed me a sleep aid called Trazodone. (Ambien literally makes me suicidal, so even though it knocks me dead to the world, it's out...)
You know how when you close your eyes in the dark, you can sometimes still see fuzzy little floaties in your vision? Well Trazadone made those floaties look like neon red and blue cookie cutter shapes that zoomed all around. It also made me more tired than I've ever been in my life, but did not shut off my brain. So that was a rough night. I literally didn't fall asleep until it finally wore off after 6AM. I called the doctor back the next day and got another sleep aid along with some Klonopin to help with the anxiety until the Zoloft kicks in. I've only had to take it twice, but I like knowing it's there when I need it.
I seriously feel like a walking pharmacy. Or rather a sleep-walking pharmacy.
I'm sooooooo tired. And so not myself.
Which has made it difficult to deal with the fact that everything in my life is broken. The TV was the first thing to go. About a week before Christmas it stopped turning on and instead makes this freaky heartbeat noise as if it's attempting to defibrillate itself back to health. This means no Wii for the kids. No movies. No Netflix.
My car was next. I was driving merrily along and it started to sputter and then just... died. The check engine light flashed and I lost power. Ten minutes later the fickle wench started back up as if nothing had happened and not even the grease monkeys at Jiffy Lube could figure out the problem. This cycle repeated itself until a week later when I finally had to call a tow truck to get home. Of course, it started working the moment the tow truck driver pulled up, so I still have no idea what's wrong with it. My very uneducated guess is that it's something to do with the fuel line, but that's just because of the sputtering.
The next thing to go was my washing machine, which no longer agitates, so I'm officially down to my last pair of thong underwear. Last Sunday, Alex spilled my coffee in the middle of a Greek Orthodox sermon and I had to use Genoa's ONLY jacket to sop up the mess, so she doesn't have a coat right now. I'd take it all down to the laundromat, but fitting all that laundry in Joel's tiny car along with two small humans is difficult at best, and that's assuming I actually HAVE the car. Being a one-car family with two kids who live in Vancouver and one who lives in Gresham is more than a challenge, especially since not all five of us actually FIT in the car at the same time. My logistics gene has certainly been getting a workout.
Monday night we got our first snow just in time to run out of heating oil.
Yesterday we had to meet with Alex's teacher and the school principal to discuss his behavior at school.
Last night Joel got snowed in at the office and couldn't drive home. We both had to sleep alone.
But I'm writing this all out as a way of saying: I'm okay. We're fine. My paycheck finally cleared this morning, so I got an oil delivery and any minute now the house should be warm enough that I can feel my toes again. Joel started a new client project this morning that will allow us to get everything fixed. I'm finally getting used to our feast and famine cycle. It probably isn't the best thing for my anxiety, but I can live with it because there just isn't any other way for us TO live.
The beauty in being down on your luck is that it either brings hope bobbing to the surface like a life raft or it doesn't.
Late last night I was still having a hard time sleeping, so I bundled up (even more than the three sweaters I was already wearing because we didn't have heat) and went out to the garage. I opened the big sliding door and sat there just watching the snow fall.
I had forgotten - like I do every year - how quiet it gets when it snows.
It was unbelievably quiet. Unbelievably beautiful. It was the perfect opportunity for me to try and feel my feelings. So I sat there and I listened to my heart and the only feeling I could come up with was gratitude.
Everything is broken - even the chemistry inside my brain is broken - but I'm not. I'm just lucky. Because given the choice between hope or despair, I choose hope every time.