I’d be lying if I said that since the meds everything has been smooth sailing. In case anyone stumbled onto this blog because they’re looking for info on what they’re taking or interested in taking, I’m taking Celexa for anxiety. I take one 20mg pill every day. I also have Xanax, which I use irregularly to help cope when I’m feeling really overwhelmed.
It’s been a month. I officially started my second month today. It hasn’t been easy. So if you’re looking at this and thinking that the pill will make your life better right away, it probably won’t. That’s not to say that I haven’t noticed changes in the last month. I have. And it’s been a good thing, overall. Before the meds, I was regularly having total, very public, meltdowns at work. I’ve managed to control my frustrations since. I still get frustrated. I still have my moments. That’s what the Xanax is for. And yeah… I’ve taken one here and there. It helps.
My BFF said, “It doesn’t make sadness and anger and disappointment and frustration go away. It just makes it easier to deal with.” Yup. That’s exactly right.
I’m acutely aware of the triggers. I’m also very in tune with what my body does to signal me before I get to my breaking point. I have a safe place I can manage these moments in, and that makes all the difference. Just knowing I can say, “I’m feeling bad today” or “I feel crazy” without judgement or babysitting. I’m having very off days. And a lot of them. I am having physical manifestations of anxiety: autonomous deep breathing, jaw clenching… things like that. Things that I very well may have been doing *before* the meds, and now I’m just aware of them. It’s hard. This is hard. Because I feel totally outside of myself. I don’t like that feeling.
People can say the stupidest things. “Just get over it.” “Happiness is a choice.” “It’s all in your head.” And you know what? They don’t make it easier. Don’t think, for one second, I haven’t said, “Just choose to be happy. This is all in your imagination.” Reality steps in, though, and I’m reminded that this is bigger than “choice.”
It’s the little things that get me. Big stuff? I got that. Maybe it’s because we’re hard-wired to manage the big things that hit. But the little things creep in and before you know it, they’ve rooted in and taken over.
It got me thinking about what triggers me. And I have a few things, off the top of my head, that I see are sparking those feelings. But…. I’ve also decided that I’m not going to share most of them here, with the exception of this one thing: Seeing the issues/non-issues in other’s lives get me. When I read about someone who has been triggered to eat dysfunctionally, it makes me question my own habits and then I’m back to them. Conversely, when I read or talk with someone who’s like, “Yeah, life is super wonderful and everything’s great and I’m so happy.” That does it, too. And not because misery loves company. I don’t want everyone to feel like I do. God! What a horrible, sad world this would be! No, it’s not that. Instead, it becomes a comparison game. “Why is she/he/they/everyone so fucking happy and I’m stuck in a hole that is slowly collapsing on me every day?” It isn’t that they are happy. It’s that I’ve taken to comparing myself to everyone in an effort to identify with anything that may feel normal.
On the flip side… you know what’s really saving my ass? The little things. I know, right? Funny how that works.
- Skinny Peppermint Mocha Latte – that makes me happy.
- BFF #1 time. Heart.
- My safe place, which is literally saving me from totally losing my mind.
- Writing. A little. A lot. Whatever. About anything.
- A kind word. (Pay it forward…. say something nice to someone today.)
- Fleece sheets.
- A hug.
They’re keeping me going. They are giving me hope and strength.
This is about to ramble for a minute. Stick with me, here, folks. If any of you have ever driven in fog, or walked in fog, while it can be beautiful, it can also be quite confusing. You see, when there’s no fog, you know you’re on the right path/road because you can *see* the landmarks that tell you where you are. Without those landmarks identifying your progress, you’re left wondering where you are and how much further you have to go.
I don’t know where I’m at. I feel like I’m walking through a fog. I can’t see any sign of progress, because there are no landmarks to tell me how far along I am. And I don’t know how much further. So I lean, quite heavily, on any light to guide me. Often times, it’s a friendly voice, calling out to me. That voice is leading me. And thank God. Because I seem to have lost the cognizance to lead myself.
It’ll get better. The doc said give it another month. So I’m gonna. We’ll see how it goes. In the meantime… if you are feeling the way I am, or have felt… know that you’re not alone. Be patient. Let the meds do their work. And build your support system for when things are tough. You will get better. I promise. In the meantime… just stay the course.