I have been feeling so incredibly depressed today. My mind and body are just going through the motions of work and family life but I’ve got no emotional attachment. Once I stopped driving my kids all over the place for practices & after school activities, it was 4:45 when I was home for good. My body ached in ways it never has before so I suspect the Wellbutrin is affecting me in a strange manner. I tried very hard to tackle the kitchen without a drink but the stress of the mess was overwhelming. I didn’t see how I could empty the dishwasher, load the dishwasher, clean the pots from yesterday and make dinner without going out of my mind with anxiety. This is basic stuff, people, and I cannot cope.
First I imagined calling Lynn, my therapist, to tell her I think the Wellbutrin is making me worse. But, I reconsidered. Can’t I wait until Saturday when I have my appointment?
Is it such an emergency? And what can she do for my stress right at this moment? All of my answers told me she could not do anything right now but I could. I decided to self-medicate and I opened a bottle of wine. Since there was no white in the house I settled for a nice Merlot. My anxious thoughts got washed down with the first glass of wine and after the second I felt so much calmer. I’m not angry and ready to scream at my kids and husband, who have been tiptoeing around me. Lately, anger, frustration and disappointment have been the status quo. Everyone in the house needs a break from that. I am sorry for not being stronger and controlling my urge to drink but I can be happy I stopped at 2 glasses so I don’t feel hung-over tomorrow. When I see Lynn, hopefully she will have suggestions or ideas about the next step. I’m definitely losing my clarity from this chemical imbalance in my brain. I can’t stay in control of my thoughts and feelings and I’m hanging on the edge of the cliff right now by just my fingertips. You know your depression is winning the battle when you can’t remember how it felt to be peaceful and happy and you don’t know how to get out of the fog of depression.
For those who care to read more, then read on. This is more personal ramblings, as if writing in my diary.
Christmas vacation was a horror story with my family descending on my house for a big meal. I picked the wrong time to have everyone come, what with me 3 days into my new medication. Family is such a love/hate relationship on its best days so when I don’t feel well, the hate part is much stronger. My brother, The Perp, is such an egotistical asshole that I became very frustrated with his attitude. Right now, he is basically living off my mom because he lost his job, house and wife. My mom is 77 years old and needs her finances for her own retirement – not to give to my brother. Talk about triggering past resentments. My mom is supporting this guy by paying his rent so he can sit back and live easy. When I learned my mom gave my brother an iPad2 for Christmas (this guy is 50 years old and unemployed) it just blew my mind. Of course, having dug up old journals from 20+ years ago is not good for my mental state either. All the therapeutic work I did around sexual abuse is crashing in on me. I’ve been reading blogs about sexual abuse and identifying myself as a survivor (or victim, if you so choose). I have not re-lived that piece of my life for a very long time and I actually thought I had worked through all of those issues. But, my mom helping out this brother has me raging with anger and frustration. She is enabling him and it seems similar to my childhood. In adulthood, I had grown to believe perhaps my mom didn’t know what my brother was doing to me as a girl but the recently discovered letter I wrote to her(in a previous post of mine), brought back the time when I thought she did know. I guess I haven’t let all of that anger go because I’m so frustrated with the relationship between my mom and The Prep that I feel like I never want to see them again. Hmmm, what happened to me forgiving and moving on? I thought I had worked through all the sexual abuse issues and left it firmly in the past. Well, then, is it the depression? It most certainly is and I hate feeling this way. Sigh.