back on the happy pills

It has become more and more apparent with each passing day--first to my family and now to me--that I am in need of something more than a helping hand and a good night's sleep.

This really sucks. I hate feeling like I am weak and can't pull through on my own. But it is back to an antidepressant. It's been a year and a half since I went off of the cymbalta and I've done really well. I feel like my anxiety level during the pregnancy was pretty reasonable, especially considering it being a subsequent pregnancy after a loss and a high-risk one at that. The way I've been feeling lately, though, is not reasonable.

I have no appetite and have a hard time choking down food when I do eat. I have insomnia and my mind just won't quiet. Usually I am one of the most patient and low-key people you'll ever know, lately I am irritated and pissed off by the littlest annoyance. And I am weepy and crying a lot. My thoughts go rapidly into a catastrophic range. I often have this overwhelming feeling like I want to run away--yet I love my life, my family, Mr. C and little Vincent, my home, etc.--so I wish that I could split myself into two people, which makes no sense. Fleeting feelings and thoughts of this nature could be explained by sleep deprivation, but this is something more.

So it's back to the little green pills. I may have mentioned before that there are a couple of people in my family (not to mention close friends) who rely on medications to live a happy life. Somehow, though, while I see the benefit of medications for others and hold absolutely no negative judgement, when it comes to me using them I feel like a failure. Maybe it's because I got through my last episode of anxiety and depression through not only the use of antidepressants (6 months) but also through meditation, energy work, healthy eating/exercise/sleep, and a spiritual path. Through these methods I have felt good for well over a year--so why don't I feel good now? I think I also feel like a failure because so many (most) women have babies and don't fall apart like this. I did take to heart the kind words in the comments a couple of posts ago, and I get it, I really do. I also get that while all of the "complementary" methods I use to manage my tendency toward anxiety and depression are effective, that the way I am feeling now (as Mr. C has pointed out to me) is neurological and biochemical. He says that all of the talk therapy, meditation, fish oil, etc. in the world won't do the trick when your brain and body chemistry are out of balance. Maybe in a couple of weeks (when the drugs have kicked in) I'll feel better about things. But right now I am sad and angry that I am back here again, I really hoped that I never would be.

Vincent is doing well. Thank you Hennifer, the prune juice works like a charm. We are still experimenting with just how much is neither too much nor too little, but all in all he is much more regular and happy for it. I made a chart to keep track of his natural rhythms (sleeping and eating) so I can see if there are any patterns and also so I can make adaptations to my expectations and whatnot. He was 10 weeks old last Saturday but from everything I read he is more in line with a six week old, which pretty much holds with his adjusted age. Until he is at least three months adjusted, or he shows me otherwise that he is ready, I will continue to follow his lead when it comes to sleeping and eating and not push too hard to impose a schedule. That being said, I am doing what I can to reinforce what I feel works best (for both of us). He is no longer constantly fussing and needing to be held or walked around. Now when he fusses or cries I can figure out what he needs without too much confusion and he is back to being a happy baby again before too long. He is smiling, cooing and sometimes attaching vowels and consonants. My mom got him an activity gym and he kicks and hits it and gets really excited. He also loves to lay in his changing pad and have me kiss his face and tummy. We go for walks almost every day in the sling with his head out so he can see everything that is going on. He prefers this to the stroller because he loves to watch the world around him and listen to all of the sounds.

And here is the part of the post where I am tempted to try and wrap this all up with a neat little bow somehow. A look on the bright side, a silver lining, something positive among all of the muck. I don't have it in me. I'm pissed off that I have all of the things in life that I ever prayed for, yet I am miserable.