Mandajuice

Some things are worth the overdraft charge

Last week started off kinda rough. The kids were actually pretty great (in spite of it being a week of early release days), but I started to run out of my medication on Sunday night and since I only had $8 in the bank, I began rationing it and only taking half of my prescribed dosage, which would have stretched me out until I got paid. Oddly enough given everything I've heard about weaning from Effexor, I didn't get any headaches or brain pings or nausea. I actually felt totally okay.

Or so I thought.

It took exactly 24-hours on the lower dose for me to freak out on Joel. He was at his office working and sent me an e-mail, one that he later admitted was a bit snotty (and meant as mostly playful), and I got my panties in a wad and accused him of being hostile. We went back and forth a few times after I tucked the kids in bed and then he said:

"Babe, I drafted a long and "thoroughly well-considered" reply. (I'm speaking in jest.) But instead I just want to you to know that I love you very much. Also, I'm asking because I care about us being in a good space, would you please take the second Effexor? I will figure out the money piece. 

I love you more and more every day."

Of course I completely lost my shit. Because HOW DARE HE blame his rudeness on my diminished medical regimen?!?! I was blind with hurt and anger and he ended up spending Monday night at the office. Of course just to prove him wrong, I immediately went back to taking my full dosage of Effexor.

We talked through it the next day, somewhat calmly, but we were both still pretty sore. I didn't like him bringing up my medication in the middle of a fight and I didn't like him spending the night away from me out of (what I perceived as) anger. Of course he felt stuck on both issues. Part of being a good partner is making sure your partner is healthy. He also steadfastly reserves the right to not come home to a disgruntled angry girlfriend. Joel is more than happy to allow me my anger and hurt, he just doesn't need to be stuck in its path. I've taken it out on him too many times already. He wasn't trying to punish me for my reaction, he just wanted to wait me out until I stopped seeing red. In a way staying overnight at the office protected BOTH of us from my anger. Of course at the time I couldn't see it that way. Sleeping alone just made me cry.

It wasn't until Wednesday that I started to notice I suddenly felt... better. Like, WAY WAY better. And because I had put on my big girl britches that day, I texted Joel right away:

I just want you to know that I think you were right about the medication. My brain feels different today. Noticeably different. I'm sorry for not believing you when you noticed the difference and tried to help.

"I love you," was his response. Because he does. Obviously.

So the moral of the story is that I need to stay on my medication. The FULL dose. Probably forever. Because even though I thought I was still doing okay, I was SO not okay. And I wasn't able to tell the difference until my brain chemistry was restored.

When I get angry and out of sorts, I feel like my responses are all 100% legitimate. That my gripes are fact. I end up accusing Joel of things he would never do, like talking down to me or making me feel stupid. When in reality, IT'S ALL IN MY MIND. None of it is real.

Now that my brain is back (and that's the best way I can think of to say it), I can SEE my overreaction. If he sent me the exact same e-mail today, I probably would just laugh and draft an equally snotty, but COMICAL comeback. I wouldn't take it personally.

As it turns out today was my last therapy appointment at PSU (the quarter ended, so my student therapist had to move on to future patients...) and we talked a lot about how lucky I am that I have a partner who's so invested in keeping me sane. He and I will continue seeing our couples counselor, so for now I feel like even if I'm not quite as self-aware as I want to be, I have resources in place that will help.

Now if I could just have an orgasm, I'd be golden.

Gunzmont Farm

Yesterday we bought two baby chicks and a hamster. The chicks are meant to be an addition to our existing flock and the hamster was for Liza, who wanted a pet so she wouldn't be afraid to sleep alone in her basement bedroom. She's gonna take the hamster back and forth between our house and her mom's, so we caved.

As for the chicks, we got two Americaunas. They lay green eggs! Our intention was to purchase one chicken for eggs and one chicken to, uh, roast, but we'll see. I may chicken out. (Ha!) I fully assumed we'd just put up a heat lamp in the existing coop and let them grow up outside, but then the good people at Coastal Farm Supply explained that chickens are CANNIBALS. They eat their young! We have to keep them inside until they're big enough to hold their own against the existing flock. On the drive home with the birds, I started thinking they'd be lucky if they survived the night without me shooting them.

For such tiny little fluffy babies, they sure can chirp LOUD. Which is why I'm so thrilled we have all that extra space in the basement. They're now safely huddled in a giant Rubbermaid bin with a heat lamp to keep them warm. We didn't hear a peep all night.

Everything else is going really well. Taking medication has made a huge difference in my entire existence. The noise and fear and anger that usually rattles around in my brain is just... gone. When Joel and I went in for counseling on Tuesday, neither of us had anything to talk about. In spite of the fact that Joel had a REALLY busy week involving multiple deadlines and at least two all-nighters, our relationship has never been better. There were, of course, a few moments during which my PTSD kicked in. Joel would rush home and his mood would be dark and he'd be tense with so much pressure to get everything done on time. I could see the stress hovering around him like a Pig-Pen cloud and I would automatically shrink in fear.

Before the medication, my anxiety would have killed me and I probably would have started a fight. Instead, this time I was able to simply remind myself that Joel wasn't taking his bad mood out on me. Sure, he was snippy at times, but it wasn't my fault. I wasn't doing anything wrong. He wasn't going to yell at me. Just that simple mental reminder was enough to shut off the part of my brain that usually freaks out. And it was freak out week!

And we had the kids!

I realize I'm WAY behind in my writing here and I need to talk about how much I love my job, how Alex has been getting in trouble at school, how much and what I've been cooking and the hilarious lengths I've gone to to achieve orgasm in spite of the numbing effects of Effexor.

It feels like I'm getting back into the swing of things, so stay tuned.