Can I ask you a question, Anteaters? Do I seem more or less crazy/depressed/symptomatic over the past 7 weeks while I've been on medications, or in the weeks and months leading up to that? Because I'm starting to think the reason I'm doing (feeling, behaving) so badly is that the doctor who wrote the scripts had no idea what he was doing. so, I cut out the Zoloft on Christmas (because that's when I lost my script at my boyfriend's parent's house lol) and that seemed to decrease some of the worst physical spasms and nightmare visions. But I'm still blowing up at everything, and taking everything my boyfriend says in the worst possible light. So I'm cutting out the Welbutrin starting this morning, and sticking with just the Vistirol/hydroxizine which I've taken before and I *know* made me feel better without any unwanted psychological side effects (the stomach side effects are going to be there no matter what pills I take.)
So, this honest exploration of the process of finding the right coctail of meds continues. I swear I would be doing this under a doctor's supervision if only I could get a doctor. As is, on Wednesday (when kid is in school) I'm going to the walk-in clinic with my medical records & just asking for a refill on the two pills a day I'm taking (and asking her to put it up to three, which is what the only actual psychiatrist I've ever seen prescribed.)
Also, I've gained over 20 lbs in the last two months of being on medication (and going out to eat a lot with Dave) and, uh, it's triggering some thoughts. I spent about an hour hiding in my bathroom looking at real-girl thinspo pictures yesterday. I don't know why I torture myself, I just can't seem to stop the comfort eating without... associating it with something very uncomfortable (vomit or laxatives anyone?)
I will say this, thinking to myself "Is this something I'd be willing to blog about?" helps me make better choices, lses self-destructive ones at least. It's funny, when I was a middle school Sunday School teacher (ha! Just 7 years ago) I used to think, "Would I feel bad if one of my kids saw me doing this?" which, ya know, helped me turn down free coke. Maybe that's a product leftover from the groupthink and groupidentity of my cult childhood or maybe it's just human nature. At Vineyard and in Brio there was talk about "accountability partners" but my partners and I always just encouraged each other to up the ante. We weren't keeping each other accountable; we were keeping score.
All that is to say, in a roundabout way, that I value your opinions. Do I seem to be better or worse since I started the meds, and do you happen to know any free doctors in my area that have appointments before March AND treat adults AND see patients who have no insurance AND don't think that making $250/month means I shouldn't qualify for public assistance? Heh, cause I can't seem to find one. And yet, on a roadtrip with my Chica once, we found ourselves in need of an English-speaking veterinarian who would treat her cat Hannibal (who had just ralphed on my floor rug) for free, while lost in industrial Miami - and we succeeded. I thought God was on my side back then, pulling strings for us or else "leading" us in the right direction. (It turned out Hannibal was fine, just too well mannered to use any of the beaches we had availed him of, and in desperate need of a litter box. One turkey basting dollar store pan & one bag of cat litter later, and we had a *very* relieved kitty.)
I feel like I haven't written as much lately, or what I have written has been more disjointed. It certainly is agonizingly hard to make words flow these days (about myself or my past, not the random things I find itneresting on the internet.) You know what? I haven't done a Messin'with Mormons post in a while. Maybe I'll do one of those to get myself back into the fightin' spirit, or finish that travesty on the woman's role in the home.
I love you guys, gals, and transpeeps.