I got a lot done today, and the day is not over yet! I’ve done the grocery shopping, all of the laundry, cleaned the kitchen and made a hundred bucks writing articles. Hopefully that money will go towards something we need and not vet bills this time. We also went for a little walk on the trail with the dogs, which was fun. Today it was in the eighties and sunny…nice!

I usually don’t go on the trail because I feel trapped (you can’t get off of it whenever you want, you have to just keep walking!) but I decided that it was too nice of a day to go to the gym instead of being outside. Thankfully, I managed to have fun and not feel the usual trapped crazy feeling. I think it might be because I decided that I can’t just give into those irrational feelings, at least not today! That, and it’s simply easier to walk longer distances since I’ve been going to the gym and have lost some weight. Anyway, it was sooo beautiful.

I begged off a last minute birthday party for Sage’s cousin. My sister-in-law is a piece of work. Words are useless here. Suffice it to say that she gossips viciously about everybody, and when I saw her at the community pool this summer, she pretended like she didn’t even see me, even though our kids were playing together. She has taught her daughter some atrocious things. I was appalled when that formerly sweet middle school student told me that she believed she was better than the girls who DIDN’T have a collection of Coach and Kate Spade purses. Whatever! I called her out on it, even though we were at a family dinner. I didn’t say a tenth of what I wanted to, though! Anyway, I guess I did have some words about my sister-in-law. The evil one, that is. The new one is a real sweetie-pie.

I can’t believe I’m still writing at this point. I’m surprised my fingers aren’t nubs!

I have been agonizing over this decision. Agonizing. I took a bit of Zoloft today with the idea of getting back on it AGAIN.

Here’s what happened. I got off of it in May, largely because I was feeling so great. In June, I enjoyed a period of being fairly manic and especially creative. I spent July and part of August crying. I got over that, and had a couple of good weeks, that I am very confused by. Because now, things are just getting worse. One thing is that I have little motivation to go to work. I know why. My unmedicated self is very bored by my job much of the time. At an alternative school, it’s very GOOD when there’s not excitement, but I’m not a one-on-one type of teacher, and unless we’re crowded, I don’t get to teach groups. I called in sick today out of boredom. I have a cold, too, but the reality is that a cold wouldn’t ordinarily slow me down like this.

The other thing is the anxiety. I don’t think I can blame all of it on cutting down on Ativan a bit. That would make me anxious, but I don’t think it would bring all of these dark thoughts into my head. Like, I was at JC Penny trying on some clothes in a locked dressing room and had this thought that I could die in there and they wouldn’t realize it until that evening. That sort of thing. I turn my life into a horror novel with these thoughts, which seem to come out of nowhere. I don’t have them near as often with the Zoloft.

I also have this social anxiety I didn’t have before. I wasn’t always very social, but I wasn’t having panic attacks just thinking about being social, either. I also feel afraid to be alone, which is a HUGE change, because normally, I love alone time.

I also get this paralyzing anxiety out of nowhere. It is truly awful.

The thing that really pisses me off is that I didn’t have the social anxiety thing, and the alone thing before I started the Zoloft in the first place. I had some of the dark thoughts, but not as many. I know it changed my brain to make it where I have to have it or suffer these consequences.

When I took the pill out of the bottle today, there was a new warning on the bottle that I hadn’t seen before. It said, “Use during the third semester of pregnancy may cause serious health problems or withdrawal symptoms in the newborn.”

I took 50 mg when I was pregnant with Sage. I was having panic attacks and of course, couldn’t take Xanax. He was a “difficult baby” to say the least. He could never just relax, poor guy. Then later, he was diagnosed with sensory integration disorder, which is how I feel coming off the stuff. I could beat myself up some more for taking it, but recently I read that excessive stress in the mom can literally cause the babies brain to be smaller and cause problems. So. If I had known all of this beforehand, I wouldn’t have had him. And I’m glad I had him, so I suppose I need to stop obsessing about it.

The hard thing about this is accepting that I have a disease that may not ever go away. Everyone has always told me that I’ll “get over it someday.” I just don’t know. The way the Ativan withdrawal has been going, (and probably protracted Zoloft withdrawal too), I see it being a couple of years just getting off the stuff altogether. And then some more time for my brain to adjust. The brain may be plastic, but it doesn’t mean that it will go back to the way you were before. Perhaps an approximation, that’s it.

If I could just find a balance. I want to have more memories, more dreams. I want my creativity. Pacian commented that creative people often have stuff like this or worse. I’m angry. Why do I have to pay the price of crippling anxiety or being dulled by medication? I don’t like my choices here.

I can’t stand the idea of being physically addicted to anything. So I’m still hoping that even if I get back on the Zoloft, I can quit the Ativan, or at least take much less of it, the Zoloft being the lesser of two evils.

It bums me out that exercise, an exemplary diet and bucketloads of supplements aren’t making me “normal.”

Okay. Pity party over for now. I know I’m going to struggle with this though. I need to concentrate on being thankful for what I have.

1. School is going well. I now have six students, all of whom are fairly well-behaved. There are days when I can’t believe I get paid for this. I’m sure I’ll look back on this post and laugh at some point, although I hope not. Seriously, there were more “bad” kids when I tried to control too much and didn’t go with what turned out to be a natural flow that works for my class.

2. Sage’s teacher called me today about some homework he didn’t turn in. The homework was written in his agenda as “link study” and he didn’t remember what it meant. The teacher suggested he was “playing me” and focused on his lie to her that he hadn’t had time to do the work. I know that he was embarrassed to tell her that he didn’t remember the name of the homework and what it meant. He is at that age where saving face is really important. I could tell she thought I was making excuses for him, which pissed me off. She’s not at my house, where I have a child who after school, plays raquetball for an hour, comes home, walks the dogs, practices piano, does his homework, eats dinner, cleans the table, maybe has some free time, reads for half an hour, takes a bath and goes to bed. Without complaining, which is more than I can say for myself in fifth grade AND now.

3. Three years ago, one of Greg’s friends dropped a stray cat off at his house. This cat, Gordon (a girl), has pretty much been feral until about six months ago. Recently, she got sick and Greg took her to the vet. They did about one billion tests, diagnosed her with kidney failure, gave her fluids for one night, released her and charged us over $500. We need to change her name to “heater”, because that’s what that money was set aside for. I’d like to send part of the bill to the friend who dropped off the cat. People don’t realize how expensive animals are, or perhaps they do, and that’s why they didn’t keep her themselves!

4. I’ve got another freelance writing gig. It should bring in another $600+ a month, which should enable us to fix some things up around here. I also need a new car pretty soon. The minivan is getting a bit hoopty.
5. I’m stuck at 3.5 as far as the whole pill withdrawal thing goes. I’m still feeling it, and every time I try to decrease this crap anymore, I feel really bad. I’m pretty frustrated with it, but trying to be patient and hoping that I’ll feel “normal” on this amount at some point so I can manage to decrease it again.

6. I’ve been exercising like crazy, and it is finally showing. My old rings fit, and I feel more energetic. I have less general anxiety, too, which is nice. There is a HUGE difference between exercising for half an hour two or three times a week, and exercising for an hour six times a week. I’ve hit a new low on the scale and that feels great.

7. I’ve been reading this really fascinating book, The Brain that Changes Itself, which is all about brain plasticity. One of the things I’ve learned is that it’s more difficult to unlearn things than to learn them, which definitely applies to an anxiety disorder. Another interesting thing is how if you learn a language as an adult, you will “lift up” some other skills that are located in the same region of the brain. I guess some of this is old hat, as the book is a couple of years old, but I’m hoping it has some answers. I really feel as though the meds I’ve taken have given me some cognitive impairment, and I am being serious. So, time to learn Arabic! When, I don’t know…

I’ve found that playing guitar during a panic attack will pretty much turn it off. I think that’s because it must be impossible to play different things with each hand, sing and read all at the same time and still have room in my brain for anxious thoughts. It has gotten to the point where if I feel panicky, Greg will offer to bring my guitar.

I’ve been thinking a lot about meds and emotions. When I was taking Zoloft (which I quit in May), I had much less social anxiety, and less anxiety in general. Looking back, I realize that if I had been taking it, I would have made it to my brother’s wedding. Bad timing on quitting, I suppose. My new doctor (who is not pressuring me about the benzos) wants me to get back on it.

The thing is, I FEEL things so much more when I’m not on it. I have this love for my family that is just amazing, and I feel more creative. I care about thinking more complex thoughts and taking on more challenges. I’m not content to just coast along.

I suppose I’m going to keep on with the exercise, guitar, and healthy diet and keep praying that I snap out of this anti-social thing and get a grip on the anxiety. I may try some hormones too. I researched estrogen dominance for an article I was writing and learned that it can absolutely cause panic attacks. I know I am estrogen dominant, so I think I’ll finally be taking my mom’s advice on the hormone thing and getting some progesterone cream.

This was really a meandering post…

My camera makes a grumbly whirring sound when I turn it on. Then it tries to start, makes some more crumbly grumbly noises and shuts itself off. So. No photos for a while. Greg and I are pooling our money to buy a wood stove so that we aren’t all freezing in one room this winter while still paying a $400 electric bill like we did last winter. We’re aiming to buy one that is made in the US. Hopefully, that will be affordable.

Not that I ever really made a, um, habit of this, but I’ll think twice before ever again casually saying, “Yeah, and his mom’s a drug addict.” I’m getting the whole addiction thing, really getting it. It’s not cool. I’ve had about fifteen unpleasant side effects so far, including my arm going numb today, causing me not to be able to complete a credit card transaction without dropping the pen twice and feeling disembodied, somehow.

I saw a therapist, who made me an appointment with a doctor who is supposed to know what they’re doing. It occurred to me that if I hadn’t been honest with the first one, saying that I wanted off this stuff, that I wouldn’t be in this particular fix. I could have just picked up my prescription and tapered off on my own. Stupid.

Sage has been playing racquetball like a fiend everyday after work with his friend while I do the treadmill. I see him getting a lot more energy. I wasn’t able to eat solid food for about a week, thanks to the withdrawal crap, so I have become the smoothie queen. I realized after about five days that I was eating a raw food diet, which was funny, because Emma had just mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago.

Recipe: One cup blackberries, peaches, blueberries or any combination thereof. One cup almond or soy milk, unsweetened. One to two tablespoons raw nut butter. One packet Stevia. Blend. It tastes like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the bread. So delicious, and kept me going this week. My skin is very clear, and I’m dropping weight.

I heard a story about one of my students from last year today. He’s a smart kid who, classically, doesn’t work to potential. Story goes his uncle told him he’d beat the snot out of him if he ever brought home another A. He comes from this redneck family that he doesn’t fit into, so I can see that being true, unfortunately. It’s one of those truth is stranger than fiction things if true. Right now, he’s in the Texas Youth Commission (TYC) because he got in another fight and hit a teacher. He told me on the last day of school that he knew he would be locked up.

I am wondering how to make enough time in the day for Sage to have free time. He has so much going on. We go to the gym after school, then come home, he walks the dogs, practices piano, does his homework and reads for half an hour. By that time, he doesn’t have time to really unwind. The gym is pretty much the closest thing to free time that he has. I’m wondering how this is all going to shake down when he’s in band next year. I hate to see him drop the piano, because he’s really good at it. Oh, and I forgot to mention Boy Scouts. We don’t even play sports…those people must have particularly crazy lives! He is not complaining about it though, and he is working very hard. I’m so proud of him.

Mornings are funny at our house. I get undressed and get on the scale before drinking an ounce, hoping I’ve lost weight. Greg drinks his coffee, gets dressed and puts on his boots, and THEN gets on the scale, hoping he’s gained. Really, I wish you could donate fat just like blood. That would be so cool. Not that Greg needs my fat, he’s perfect just the way he is.

But can you imagine? Fat donation? It would put the Red Cross to shame, you know it would.

I just went on a Cowboy Junkies binge, no pun intended. I was singing Working on a Building at the top of my lungs, and then ended up ordering five of their CDs. The good thing is that they are all old and therefore are about 75 cents on Half.com. If you’re not familiar with them, they’re a Canadian band that became popular with some folks in the late eighties. Their remake of Lou Reed’s Sweet Jane is what did it.

Their music is like Valium, which is a very good thing right now.

I’ve also been on a Ron Rash kick lately. His book, One Foot in Eden is a smooth, poetic storytelling of Appalachian life, and it just blew me away. His other books are awesome as well. I’m not easily impressed, and have read, literally, tons of books, if that counts for anything.

His books are a bit like Valium too, I suppose, with their dreaminess and depictions of flowing rivers and such.

I’m still looking for a doctor who understands how benzo withdrawal works. It’s amazing that the people who prescribe all this crap don’t seem to know anything about it. I guess that’s a good thing, because if they prescribe it knowing what it is and can do, then I think that uncaring and irresponsible are words that are too kind for them.