Dear Dayquil,

What happened? Where is the love? Once, when we first began, I knew it could never be serious. We could never be together more than a few days at a time, you had your life, I had mine, but those days! Talk about hot! And, I knew you cared. We were a team! When the bad times hit, I only needed 1 of your lovely orange gel thingees to feel human again. Only 1, and I could work, breathe, stay awake--you know, like you promised? You seemed to really care then. I thought you'd always be there. What did I do wrong? I did what you wanted... recommended you to my friends, introduced you to my family, I even used you to keep people coming to work when, really? they needed to stay home. Sharing you has never been easy, but we looked out for each other and you were always there for me, every time. Until today.

Was it a perceived lack of faith? Was it that I eschewed my usual single capsule and went straight for the double, the recommended two gel caps? Do you not see how miserable I am? That it wasn't lack of faith, but an undeniable need to drown myself in your squishy, orange relief? What made you turn your back and leave me like this? With a stuffed head, packed sinuses and no chance of getting any sleep? I've had to turn to your scary older brother and let him take care of me. Yes, it's that bad. I've gone over to the green guy and I belong to him now and I'll never be able to get away... and I'm not even sorry! I have kids now, babe. I gotta get some sleep. This is the big time.

You think about what I've said and we'll talk again in the morning. I just want to say, I don't know if you can ever make it up to me.


[Sniff. Cough],

Jamie

The local lingo

Just in case you drop by and my children try to communicate with you...

Fortilla = tortilla

Pustard = mustard

Pop-sea-ul = popsicle

Empty-three-player = MP3 player

Neckflix = Netflix

and our new favorite:

Hot Bear Balloon =

Crack that whip

There's this thing that I do, but kind of try to ignore and never mention in print. I don't want it to be part of my identity, don't want to be identified with it. Friends and family are in the know, of course, but we keep it in the, "you're only doing this right now, because you have to," category. We do not allow it to be me, something I own. It's an ugly little thing....

I work.

Confused? There are many reasons this is a problem. #1, I never really wanted to. Not that I am lazy or interested in free-loading, but I have a low tolerance for any kind of daily schedule or routine. Truly, I can really suck at the basics of employment. I'm late, unorganized, tired, depressed, obsessive about how much I suck.... really I'm just not cut out for most jobs.
#2. Most of my peer group does not work. Wait. Are we peers if we don't match on something as major as being employed? Okay, save that one for later, but, I mean, my best friends don't have jobs outside the home. They are homeschooling mothers at varying levels of granola-hood. I want to be them and have that life, so I homeschool my kids, but I failed to make sure I wouldn't have to work during this adventure. Now I work, badly, and I homeschool, also badly. Homeschooling could be really cool, and I feel my kids are still better off, but wow, it could be so much better.
#3. The work I do...is what plenty of smart yet under-alphabetized (as in, degree-less) folks do. I manage. I used to manage a video store, these days I'm managing a mobile home park. My family lives here, gratis, and we earn a small monthly salary. I live where I work. I live in a mobile home in a funky, all-age mobile home park. None of these things makes me feel very good most of the time. Like the way I deal with my body , I don't like how my life looks, so I spend a great deal of time not really seeing it, making sure I pass by reflective surfaces, or moments, quickly and from the best angle. Also, I look far too long at things I wish I had or did and sometimes I take that stuff on as if I had the where-with-all, the funds, the whatever. I forget who I am and what my current status in my life is. Or, maybe I used to do that and we're still living with the consequences. Hmm.

This is sad though, because when I'm in the moment, taking care of a great resident, confounding a bad one, having 5 minute conversations with the owner that take 2 hours because we only email and never call... I can be pretty happy. I have a sea of neighbors, most of whom I love and care about. My god, the stories from our four years here.... how can I pretend this isn't real? Or important? How can I keep telling myself how bad I am at this if I'm still here?

More later. This is a big thing. For now, gratuitous cute:

This is your brain...

Off meds update:

Things are mostly better, and then they suddenly turn very, very much worse. It's RAGE. It was worst the first week, occurs less frequently now, but still comes up and it is terrifying, for me and for the kids. Mostly it's road rage. I've never used my horn like I have in the past two weeks. And I scream at people, as if they could hear me over the continuous horn blaring.... Sunday afternoon I tried to get out of my vehicle at a stop light so the driver (who was just as out of control as I was) could benefit from my screaming at him up close and personal. And when he drove off, I followed him to yell some more. My kids were in the car. When it was over I considered driving to the hospital and admitting myself.

I had asked my friend early on, when this uncontrollable anger first surfaced, "So, tell me the truth... How mentally ill am I? Have I always been like this?" This was not the me I remember from before the meds. I was depressed, anxious, tired. I was not violent, not like this. I told my husband about the incident with the driver of the Lexus and how I behaved, with our kids on board, and asked him, too, "How mentally ill am I?" He didn't get to answer because we have those kids and kids, they do not like for folks to have private or productive time. EVER.

So, I went to my computer and googled, "off Zoloft." What I found let me know just how much of my intelligence I checked at the door of my adult life. How could I not have figured this out? I finally have a name for these changes from the last few weeks and it is WITHDRAWAL. [slaps forehead] Why did I do no research on this drug? Turns out that Zoloft is one of the top four toughest antidepressants to stop taking and that many, many people try repeatedly and fail to get off it. Most of the gross crap I've been going through is not from removing the antidepressant effects and revealing a worse depression, but from moderate withdrawal effects. I say moderate because while I do have fatigue, irritability (rage, I know), crying jags, dizziness and an odd sensation in my head sometimes, I do not have migraines, electric shock sensations, flu symptoms or panic attacks and the symptoms are lessening significantly with each day, after only two weeks. Taking the supplements I do helps enormously, as I found out over the weekend when I forgot. Exercise though, is the BEST. It makes all the difference.

Even if I have to get treated for depression again in the future, which is possible, I will never take Zoloft again. And when I thought about it, it wasn't really working for the last several months anyway. I was still depressed, still having anxiety attacks, and that blessed (and much needed at the beginning) emotional distance or buffer the drug provides just gets thicker and thicker as time goes by until... well, a friend said she never saw an emotional deficit in me, and I didn't really either, but now I feel so much more connected to my life and my kids and all, I can see that I was quite close to comatose before I stopped taking it. It made me bored. Bored with my kids. Can you imagine that? Suddenly they are precious, priceless and interesting again, not just irritating, contrary and committed to my unhappiness. How much of their childhoods have I missed while in that cocoon?