| ...a day in the life of a mouse |
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| ...a day in the life of a mouse |
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2006-04-11 - 11:20 a.m. Started yet another new medication last week. At the time, the usual symptoms that the old one was starting to not work anymore were pretty obvious. However, after being on this new one for 7 days, I’m kinda missing the old one! The side effects so far are pretty bad. Not like…psychotically bad. But bad enough that as I sit here I am trying very very hard not to just cry. Last Wednesday the biggest problem was that I was basically a zombie. I felt like I hadn’t slept in days, couldn’t concentrate, and I felt have drunk…or stoned…or something. To the point I was actually slurring my words. Needless to say, I didn’t get my line count that day. The next day I basically said, ‘fuck it’ and took the whole day off as a sick day. By Friday, I was starting to feel better zombie-wise, but was still exhausted! Every morning I would wake up and just about cry at the thought of having to get out of bed. Like when you have been up for about 24 hours, got approximately 2 hours of sleep, and then had to get up and do it all over again. THAT was how it felt. Oh, and did I mention that the nightmares are back? BIG time. The kind where I wake myself up screaming. Ya. Lotsa fun. Especially now that Husband is working night shift and isn’t there to wake me up when the nightmares start. I feel hung over. Only, I haven’t been drinking. My mouth is dry and tastes bad. All of the healthy fruits-and-vegetable foods that I have been eating for the past 3 months is totally unappealing to me. All I want is junk food. Fries, chips, chocolate, donuts…doesn’t matter…I’ll just sit here with my mouth open and you shove it in, okay? Then I wash it all down with diet coke. Until I’m bloated. Until my belly is actually distended, and hurts. Then, while I lay there barely moving and wanting to puke, I realize I still. Want. More. It took me 6 months to lose 20 lb. It took me 2 days to gain back 4 lb. Gee, I just can’t wait to see what I’ll look like in another month or so. I also noticed that my ankles were really sore. They hadn’t hurt like this in over a year! I’d forgotten how bad they used to hurt every day. I figured it was from wandering around the mall all day with the boy. Then the ache moved up to my left knee. Going up and down the stairs wasn’t so much fun anymore. Then by Saturday both knees were gently throbbing…until, that is, I went up or down stairs. Then they started shrieking. By Sunday my hips and lower back had joined in and my hands felt stiff and a little achey. I had been trying to convince myself that I was either a) imagining it, or b) was feeling stiff and achy because the weather had been damp and rainy. It couldn’t POSSIBLY be my new medication. Because it didn’t mention anything about arthralgia/myalgia on the side effect list. Sunday I was so tired and cranky that I was starting to feel violent. Literally. I wanted to smash things. I wanted to break things. I wanted to tear things apart, all the while foaming at the mouth and screaming like a demon. I googled it. Turns out they have actually done studies on the connection between this drug and joint pain. Wow. Turns out I’m NOT imagining it and it’s NOT related to the weather. Fucking drugs. So. Here I sit. It’s now Tuesday. My family is pretty much scared to talk to me because my mood has been so shitty. Every time I move…or don’t move…or just breath, I wince. Every now and then I let out a little whimper of pain. I can’t sit still. I hurt everywhere. I am so tired I feel like vomiting. And I am so anxious and agitated that my skin feels wrong, like it somehow doesn’t fit right anymore. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I get to tell her all of this. But for what purpose? I already know what my choices are. I can either stick this out for another week…or 2, or 3…to see if the side effects lessen or go away (which they sometimes do), or I can go off this one and try another. Except, what others are there to try? I think I have tried just about all of them. And to be honest, the thought of going through this all over again…and again…and again…is enough to make me cry. I want to just throw myself right down on the ground, start crying, and not stop. I am so very tired of all this fucking trial and error. It’s interminable. Even when I find a drug that works…I know it’s only temporary. It won’t last. The only question is how long it will be before it stops working. One month? Two? Perhaps even as much as six. I think six is the maximum so far. I’m tired of being tired, yanno? I’m tired of people asking how my weekend was, and having to say, “Great! How was yours?” when what I really want to say is, “it fucking sucked, dude. You have NO idea!” When I talk to people, and tell them a little of what I’m going through, I don’t think they really believe me. Or that they think it’s unnecessary. “but you’re so NORMAL!” they say. “you’re always so good natured!” they say. I laugh, and tell them “I just fake it really well! Ha-ha!” And then they laugh too. But I MEAN it. I really am faking it most days. Some days it seems like the whole 8 hours that I sit here is spent trying not to cry, or scream, or writhe in pain, or hit something, or just run away. I can’t even remember the work I did. Did I work today? I remember squirming in my chair, gritting my teeth, and screaming silent obscenities in my head…but did I actually, you know…work?? I don’t want to talk to my husband. Because how I feel right now, I would tell him all the nasty, hurtful, horrible things that I sometimes think when I am frustrated. And then he would hate me. I don’t want to talk to my son. Partly because I would probably yell at him like some harpy bitch about something he did/didn’t do; but partly because he doesn’t need to see me like this. All psychotic and twitchy. There is no way in Hell I want to talk to my mother right now. She pushes my buttons enough when I’m in a GOOD mood. God only knows what I’d say to her if she started in at me now. I feel trapped in my house. There is nowhere for me to go. There is no one I want to talk to about all this. Yet, sitting in that dirty, messy, stagnant fucking house is just about unbearable. It’s not a home. It’s just a place to dump all our shit, and then when it’s time to eat or sleep, you just shove something aside until you find a bare spot. That’s what it feels like. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I just don’t know where to go from here. I’m tired of ppl’s advice. For the 100th time…YES! I’ve already TRIED that! This has been ongoing for 20 fucking years!!! Do you honestly think I haven’t tried EVERYTHING??? So keep your advice. I don’t fucking want it. i also don’t want you to tell me that you know how I feel because you’re on antipressants too. Right now, I don’t care, because whatever you’re going through doesn’t help me now does it? No. I am not suicidal. I do not want to harm myself. That’s not the fucking point, so don’t even ask me. i just want to stop being tired. Being fed up. Being whatever it is that makes me the way I am. I want for this to be like a bad case of appendicitis. I go in. I tell them “it hurts here”. They open me up. They take out the part that is diseased. Just cut it right the fuck OUT. Then sew me back up. And I’m cured. Actually, honestly, never-going-to-happen-to-me-again-EVER cured. 
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