This medication change is rather kicking my ass.
The prozac is most likely fully out of my system now - a month of no Prozac means that half life has worn off and that I am only on this new med - Pristiq.
I felt good for a couple of days. A little more energy, and I slept almost through out the night like most normal human beings. I felt hopeful. Didn't feel too bad, and no obvious crying or other lethargy.
Then my period arrived late last week and my whole bio-chemistry collapsed.
When Terrance arrived home last night at midnight, there I was - weeping in my bed. At first I think he just thought I was being moody and temperamental and tried to cajole me out of a "mood" - until I snapped.
I suspect there is a tone in my voice. I can't verify that because I don't exactly hear it, but I think he must. His instinct is to comfort me, which I want, but I don't. Isn't that a bitch? I want to be held and comforted, but I can't stand to be touched. The very thing that is soothing me makes me want to wrestle myself away from you and lock myself in a dark place. The more I am touched, the more I want to rage against you.
The poor man came home bearing gifts, for today is our 14th wedding anniversary. I was curled into a sobbing ball, daring him to touch me. The glory of marriage, folks.
A couple of weeks ago I asked him why. I asked how. How can you love me? Why have you not left my crazy ass? I can not see the benefit to him at these times. I do not cook. I rarely clean. I am frequently completely self absorbed in the cavern of my own mind. I can be miserable and sexually withholding.
"I just do", he said.
And so I cry and cry and cry. I feel worthless and unworthy of love. I sleep but am exhausted and fall back to sleep after waking up. I can pull myself together for long enough to emerge from the house every few days, before I sink back into my refuge. While I don't want to kill myself - my survival instinct is far greater than nearly every other impulse in my brain, some kind of safety valve placed in me at birth that dictates that I MUST KEEP GOING - I do want to disappear. While I feel desperately lonely, I can not bear to be in anyone's company. Both of the edges of the sword are cutting me while I watch dispassionately at my bleeding.
The small, logical Dawn remaining pipes up to say the medication needs more time to work. That switching over can take a couple of weeks to truly filter through the brain and see if this will all be set to rights.
Self critical Dawn? She steps in during this time too. This is her heyday, her shining moment. She tells me how self indulgent and lazy I am. That I am choosing to be upset. That if I put my mind to it and got busy than I would be fine, but no. You are too lazy and selfish and self absorbed to even try. That when Terrance does leave - as everyone always eventually does leave me - it is because I deserve it. I further deserve it for stopping a medication which wasn't entirely working, but was working better than this. See? Change is Wrong. Change is Bad.
And so I wait. Small. Exhausted. Lonely. Angry.
I wait for medication to stop this coup in my brain.