My life in the archives
Last night I read a bunch of posts in my archive and was rather astounded by my tone. I sounded so much happier and more hopeful back them. Even though life was fairly bleak, I was doing ok. I was able to work and when I found a job, I was able to perform it well until all hell broke loose with Graham at the end of 7th grade. The intense stress put me over the edge physically and I ended up terribly sick. I had my first heart surgery during that time. But even with real trauma and drama, plus a lot of anger, I still wrote a lot of positive stuff. Funny, because I can't remember being funny or happy or positive, but I was. My writing shows me that I was.
I don't feel particularly emotive these days. In psychiatry it is called a flat affect. I'm not happy, I'm not sad, I'm not anything. I move from day to day like I'm floating. I get mad, I laugh, I cry, but I feel flat. I didn't have my antidepressants for about 10 days (insurance hell) and during that time I cried a lot. Several times a day over anything. Or nothing.
I got my prescription on Friday and because I hadn't had any in days, I took a smaller dose. I knew that I would end up sleeping through a few days, because I'm sensitive to medications. I did sleep, and I stopped crying. But the flat affect seems to be stronger and I'm not sure I like it. At least I'm not screaming at the kids anymore. I get really testy when I'm not medicated.
I wish that I could find more of a happy medium. I know that if I could get out on my own and start exploring life around me, it would make me feel better. But I need some kind of helpful transportation. A Segue would be perfect but Medicare doesn't pay for them. A scooter would work but I have no place to put it. Ditto for a wheel chair. We have a huge front porch and a large deck, but they are for the landlords who are in their 80's and really not into sharing space. The won't even allow us to put a coat rack outside our front door or our mop and broom out the back door. They would keel over dead if we asked to keep a scooter in the hall. They still yell at us to take ALL the junk mail, even though I have told them again and again that it is NOT addressed to us. Sigh.
I need to find that happiness again. I hate being so flat. so what do you suggest? Stumble It! JBlog Me