Feelings….whoa whoa whoa

So many damn feelings you guys.

To start, I’m so damn close to being off of the effexor. I’m down to a quarter of a dose a day and after that I was supposed to jump to every other day. Nope. My body can’t handle it. I get dizzy and nauseous. I called the doctor today and he told me to stay on a quarter dose daily for several weeks and try again. It’s SUCH a hard drug to get off of, and it’s just not worth it. Sure, I wasn’t depressed, but I was exhausted and gaining weight like crazy. I’m ready to be done with it for good. Being dizzy when you live in a two story house is not fun, especially when you’re carrying a toddler.

On top of that I had this terrible TERRIBLE bout of acid reflux today. When I get acid reflux I get super nauseated and I belch-I don’t get the actual heartburn feeling. I took a zantac and a pepcid and ate very bland starchy food today. One more zantac before a bland starchy dinner, and I THINK I’m past it. What caused this unfortunate event? Coffee. That’s all I can figure. All I had for breakfast was a fat free yogurt and a banana, but I had about 24 oz of coffee…..Which in hindsight, was a mistake.

But, on the bright side, I really love Wellbutrin. For the first time that I can remember in my life I have no desire to emotionally eat. Now I know if I have a craving it’s because I actually want to eat that food. I don’t just graze all through out the day and I’m not having to consciously keep my hand out of the chip bag. I just get to the end of each day and realize that I ate when I needed to and didn’t when I didn’t. It’s…liberating. That’s the best word. I feel liberated from the depression that has gripped me for SO long. I wish this is the drug I had started on because I wouldn’t have gained 30 pounds in three months, but the past is the past. I’ve lost seven of those pounds so far 🙂

I talked to my SIL who is pregnant today. We talked for a few hours via fb messenger about how she’s feeling, how far along she is, and when her ultrasound is (fine, six weeks, and three weeks from now). We talked a little about first ultrasounds and I told her about mine at six weeks and how nervous I was. And then I told her how when you hear your child’s heartbeat for the first time-you’re never the same. It changes you. I’m not pulling that crap where people say that you haven’t known love until you’ve become a parent. That’s crap. But there is no doubt that hearing the heartbeat that is beating inside your womb is life changing.

And I sat there and yearned for it all over again.  Why is this so. damn. hard. I do not actually want to be pregnant right now. I don’t. Not logistically. I want to go back to work in the next year. I want to get my health in line. We need to get the old house settled-there’s just too much going on. Chief just has this one year of school left and he’s done. Now is not the time. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it so much. And that’s really hard, because for ONCE in my life my cycles are regular WITHOUT the pill, which makes me think we could be wasting prime opportunities that might be gone in a year or two, but it doesn’t matter. I have to do what’s right for my family. And frankly, I don’t think I could handle Charlie and a newborn. Toddlers are HARD. I do not know how folks handle both. I know they do it all the time, but man. I’m tired all the time now-I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like. I’ve even been thinking that waiting until Charlie starts school might be good. Then she could be a little older and understand what’s happening more, plus then we wouldn’t have to arrange full time childcare for two kiddos.

In a “pat myself on the back” sort of way-I was SUPER nice to my SIL even though she was so awful to me when I told her I was pregnant two years ago. I offered to make her some maternity clothes and told her that of course I would be sewing for the baby and she gave me her chosen colors for either gender. Apparently they’re doing the genetic testing when they go so they’ll find out early. I don’t know if that’s because of her age or what-she’s 35, do they do it at that age? Anyway, that’s where she stands. Of course I’m hoping that everything goes well for them. They’ve been trying for a while and were just about to start actual infertility treatments, so this is a major blessing. But it doesn’t stop me from having ALL the damn feelings about it.

Do fertiles ever feel this way? I mean really? I can’t imagine NOT feeling melancholy about pregnancy.


Sigh….Feelings about Today

This post is not just about Trump. You might think that, but it’s not.

I mean, it is a lot about him, but not all.

When I got up this morning I got ready to go because we had decided to take the baby to the zoo as a distraction from T-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s….event. Shudder. As soon as I came downstairs Chief told me that Charlie was going to have a new cousin. My sister-in-law is pregnant.

And…I’m happy for her. But you know the drill. I’m not happy for me. But I really wish I didn’t feel that way. I HAVE a baby. She’s amazing. I don’t even know if I want another one. Honestly I think I could be okay either way, but I certainly don’t want another one right now. There are too many good job opportunities coming up in the next year. So why are my ovaries shouting at me that I should get pregnant again? Is this just the green-eyed monster talking? I would say yes except that I feel this way all the time. I want another one right now in my heart but my head knows that it’s not a good idea.

So the problem is that I’m sitting there picturing all those amazing firsts-first positive test, first ultrasound, first heartbeat, first kick. Seeing the belly grow and grow. All the parts about pregnancy that I really loved. And that, thinking about alllll that. That gives me some feels. And then remembering my sweet newborn. She was so soft and pink. “She even smelled pink” as Lorelai Gilmore would say-and she’s right. Newborns have such a sweet smell. Maybe it’s just hormones. I don’t know.

I didn’t try to articulate any of this for Chief because he just doesn’t get it. And that’s okay. I emailed Molly from Hound Mama’s who let me vent my terrible feelings to her like a champ, and that helped. But I’m still smarting a little from this.

To make things worse, my mother-in-law decided that she needed to have a facebook account now that the good daughter-in-law is pregnant. She signed up today. She sent me a friend request. I haven’t accepted yet. My father-in-law has been busy putting up racist, anti-obama and pro-trump memes. I can’t imagine having both of them on there right now. I mean I’ve unfollowed my father-in-law. I did that years ago. But I’m a masochist who still goes over there occasionally to see what’s happening in his sick brain.

We had a really nice time at the zoo though. Really nice. Charlie loves the animals and the weather was beautiful so a lot of them were out in their areas to be seen. The Serval cat was RIGHT at the front of his enclosure. Charlie laughs when she sees the animals because she’s so happy. When she laughed he hissed at us and turned his back to her and sat stock still, letting her know how disappointed he was in her. I couldn’t help but laugh. Then at the heritage farm a goat named Charlie tried to eat her shoe, so that was pretty perfect. And we bought some of the sheep treats and let the sheep nibble them out of her hands and she giggled and squealed. My heart needed it. And don’t worry, I fed the sheep first to make sure they didn’t go after fingers or anything.

And then we went home, and I read the announcement that he had officially be sworn in, and I got nauseated and have pretty much stayed that way all day. I ate dinner through my nausea, I put my baby to bed through my nausea, I searched through my fabric stash for purple fabric to sew through my nausea….Am I going to be nauseous for four years?

So I’m glad we went to the zoo, because otherwise today would have been a real crapfest all the way around. Thank god for the zoo.

One pill, two pill, three pill, four

Within a matter of months I went from taking no pills at all to taking five a day. FIVE. Two antidepressants (one that I’m weaning off of), two antihistamines, and an antacid.

To make matters more complicated, I have to take them at different times of the day. I have to take half of the venlafaxine in the morning and at night as I’m weaning down. I take the Bupropion in the morning as it can cause sleeplessness, and I take the two antihistamines at night. I’ve basically stopped taking the antacid as I’ve switched around my eating habits as it no longer seems necessary.

But then this week my doctor tried to add another pill into the mix-a cholesterol pill. I’ve had high cholesterol before, even when I’ve been very active and significantly thinner, so it doesn’t surprise me that my cholesterol was up. Frankly I’m surprised it wasn’t higher, but what did surprise me is that he immediately jumped to me taking a cholesterol med, especially when I’m breastfeeding. Luckily I called them and they said that he “misunderstood” me and thought I was done breastfeeding (he didn’t misunderstand me, he just forgot. He told me I SHOULD be done breastfeeding, which is another story in and of itself) and that I could hold off on taking the lipitor and get rechecked in six months.

Guys, I’ve been so good these last few weeks. Just eating really well, trying to be more active (this is hard for me because my energy levels are still a bit depressed, but getting better). I’ve lost about six pounds so far. The Bupropion is a miracle drug as far as I’m concerned because since I’ve been on it I have no desire to emotionally eat. Or just graze on bad stuff throughout the day like I have basically my entire life. I eat when I’m hungry and that’s it. It feels amazing to just be normal for once in my eating habits. I’m also not beating myself up if I ever splurge. I had regular full fat ice cream last weekend WITH hot fudge and didn’t flip my shit like the old version of myself would have because seriously, five hundred calories of delicious sweetness isn’t going to kill me if I have it in moderation.

It feels good to just…be balanced. I feel like I’m coming out of a fog. That’s how I described it to my mom on the phone the other day. You really don’t realize how bad it was until it starts to get better. The switching in antidepressants was totally the right call. I never ever want to be back on a full dose of venlafaxine again. My friend had the exact opposite reaction to it as I did-where it made me graze like crazy and want to sleep all the time, she said that she dropped thirty pounds on it and felt like she was on meth constantly. So weird.

The one thing that I’m still struggling with is my digestion. At first it was really slow, so I took Miralax Sunday night. Monday I had no change, so I took another dose. Then Tuesday it’s like it all hit at once and I was stuck in the bathroom for a bit, and since then it’s just….not ideal. It’s loose but I still feel constipated. I’m eating a good amount of fiber-aiming for 25 grams a day and usually hitting at least 20 grams. Tons of water-that’s all I’m drinking right now except for the occasional mid afternoon coffee to beat the fatigue. I’m hoping it levels out soon.

So that’s my rambling way of saying that I’m making it, and things are looking up for me. Thanks for reading this boring post about my medicine cabinet and my bowels.

Here’s the Thing About Admitting You’re Sad

Everyone wants to fix you, and sometimes there isn’t a way to fix it.

I saw my GP today to get started on titrating off of effexor and on to wellbutrin. He also ran some lab work to make sure that the fatigue and exhaustion I’m feeling (slept seven hours last night and then slept again from 9:00 am-noon today) isn’t due to iron, vitamin deficiency, thyroid, blood sugar, etc.

While I was there he talked to me about seeing a therapist. He is not the first. Anytime I talk to someone about my antidepressants (and that’s not a lot of people) it seems there is a pretty good chance someone is going to want me to see a therapist. One of my best friends gently pushed me about it before the holidays. I have seen a therapist in the past and I didn’t feel a lot of result from it. I tried, and I’m not saying there isn’t value in therapy, but I have a lot of reasons for feeling like therapy is not going to fix the reasons that I need help with my depression and anxiety.

On Christmas Day we started at my dad’s house. His new wife, my sister and my BIL were there, of course along me with me, Chief and Charlie. Everything was going okay, though of course with my sister around there is always a chance of something unfortunate happening. After we opened gifts Chief was cooking us breakfast in the kitchen and someone brought up my cousin P, who also happens to be Charlie’s godfather. He is my cousin on my mother’s side. Now, Dad and my sister both really hate P. Dad hates him because of a weird real estate thing that they disagreed over and my sister hates him because P, unlike everyone else, won’t put up with her shit and dishes it right back to her. K is not used to people actually standing up to her, so she makes him into a villain anytime she can.

Chief and I had recently discussed that as Charlie is becoming more of a person as opposed to the baby lump she used to be that we need to be much more careful when discussing people around her. I’ve tried to really tame my own tongue when it comes to discussing my in-laws. I very politely asked them to refrain from discussing P in such negative tones because he is Charlie’s godfather after all. P and his wife S (my cousin by blood) love Charlie so much that they have set up a college fund for her and S is one of the people I actually trust to babysit. Besides the fact that I don’t want Charlie to hear it, I also don’t want to hear it. I love them and they’re good people. Dad understood immediately but of course K had to fight back and be a brat about it.

Later that afternoon we were at my grandmother’s house. After we had opened gifts everyone was getting the food ready. I was really sick over Christmas so I had brought premade stuff so I wouldn’t have to touch all the stuff at my elderly (and therefore prone to illness) grandmother’s house (although it did turn out to just be allergies). K was cutting something with a SHARP knife, not a butter knife, and Charlie toddled past. K chose that moment to swoop her up and try to hold and play with her. My mother and I both objected immediately because K is clumsy under the best of circumstances, and I wouldn’t want ANYONE holding my child with a knife in their hands. I won’t even do that. K immediately fired back at me saying that she was fine and she knew what she was doing. Then mom immediately turned on me despite her own protestations to the situation and said that I shouldn’t try to start fights with my sister over Christmas and that K was fine.

This may seem unrelated to my issue with seeing a therapist, but it’s not. This is the reason why I don’t think therapy will work well for me. My depression and anxiety, in my opinion, are directly rooted to the way I was raised, which was that I was always wrong, and that my abusive and hateful sister was always right. Always. It’s been that way for 28 years. I have horrible dreams involving K screaming at me for hours at a time, and I just sit there, taking it. Sometimes I scream back. On the nights that I scream back, I wake up feeling like I’ve done something terribly wrong.

I don’t want to see a therapist because I would have to tell them all of this, and they would want me to mend this relationship. I don’t want to mend it. I obviously don’t want to hurt anymore, but someday my parents will be gone (please don’t take that as me wishing for that day, because that is far from the truth) and I will have no reason to have contact with her. That is what I want.

And frankly, a lot of my issues also stem from being afraid of something horrible happening to my child, and doesn’t every mother have that fear? How do you fix that in therapy?


Figuring Out Self-Love

Look, I’m just going to be honest-I want to be thinner. But it’s not just for looks.

Yes, do I think I look better in my clothes with less weight on my frame? Yes, yes I do. BUT I don’t think I look bad now-I’ve made myself a lot of cute stuff that I will alter to fit if and when I lose weight. People tell me I look good all the time. So that’s not such a huge issue. An issue, but not a huge issue.

What is a huge issue it how uncomfortable I am. What is a huge issue is that I have a fungal rash surrounding my neck like a giant choker that is almost certainly a result of some sort of hormonal nightmare (we’re running blood work next week) and people get freaked out when they see it and think it’s contagious. It won’t clear up with normal treatment and is spreading down to my breasts.

What is a huge issue is that I can’t run up one flight of stairs without being out of breath.

What is a humongous issue is that I’m too tired to play with my daughter A LOT of the time. It’s too hard to carry her around for too long.

What is a catastrophic issue is that my family has a history of heart disease and diabetes a mile long, and I can’t ignore that. I carry my weight in my middle which is so, so bad for your heart. I want to live a long time for Charlie.

So. Do not take it as a matter of body hate when I say that I’m trying to lose weight. In fact for me, when I am actively working out and eating right, it is absolute body love. I want to protect and preserve my body for as long as possible.

But I. am. struggling.

Today Chief had to go work with emergency response because we got TWO INCHES OF SNOW. So aggravating. He said he didn’t do anything all day but they won’t release him until morning. I got down because while everyone else gets a day off with their family, my husband always has to go. On top of that we’ve started weaning and I really think it’s taking a toll on my mental health. I’m so ready to switch my antidepressent from eff.exor to well.butrin, but my GP wants me to wait to start until he can help me titrate the dose of eff.exor, and I see him on Wednesday for the bloodwork.

The point is, I’ve been sad all day. Just sad. I have not loved myself today. I’ve tried. I had a healthy smoothie for breakfast and a turkey sandwich and yogurt for lunch. I had my regular burrito for Friday dinner and I always have done that, even when actively losing weight, so I don’t feel bad about that. What I do feel bad about is the chocolate and cereal I’ve snacked on all day. I’m such an emotional eater, and today I was bored and depressed, so I ate my way through the day.

I want my daughter to grow up loving her body, and by loving her body I mean eating healthy food. Treats are fine, but they need to be consumed with a clear head and in moderation. I want her to be healthy. I don’t want her to be wondering why her skin won’t clear up or why she has to take 2-3 naps a day to make it through the day, like I do. I don’t want her to have absolutely ZERO sex drive like I do.

If I felt good at this size and my cholesterol was OK and I was active and eating well, I could stay here forever. Seriously. But none of that is true, so I’m trying to do better. But despite the fact that I know what to do, I’m having such a hard time getting past my emotions and doing it.

Self-love is eating the fruits and vegetables that are going to help my digestion and give me energy. Self-love is working out throughout the week and getting off the couch because after all, sitting is the new cancer. Self-love is putting down the soda and picking up the water (one thing I have been successful at this week).

I’m trying to love myself enough to give myself another chance.