It's the 5th of March and it's storming AGAIN. Both kids home. Husband out on the road setting up gear for a big thing this weekend, because snow or not, the show must go on. I'm not driving out to the barn today, since I'd rather not take the chance on rearranging somebody's car with my pickup truck. I have a day of dishes and laundry ahead of me. Bright point? I think I'll be able to finish -FINISH!- the edits on my little book. And of course, I have two kids, a dog and a cat to keep me company.
You know what? I'm generally miserable. I have been for about six weeks now. I wake up every morning feeling ill. Queasy, barfy, can't eat til noon. I sleep like crap, even worse than usual. I can't concentrate. I feel like I could cry at anything and have to fight it down constantly. I hate my kitchen, I hate my living room, I hate my bedroom. I hate going to the mailbox.
I love writing, but it irritates me after only a few minutes. Start and go. Amazing I can get anything done.
I've been having more little panic episodes, heart palpitations, tightening of the chest.
I'm going nocturnal, which is never good for me. I wake up sickly, I go back to bed til ten or so. I feel rotten for sleeping half the day away. Lately I feel ill again about ten at night. I go to bed with a headful, try to relax and meditate it out, and dream about broken elevators and sinkholes and swinging bridges.
Jethro thinks I've got Seasonal Affective Disorder, especially since we look back and see that I maybe always had this problem around this time of year. It's just that before The Breakdown, I was better at crushing everything down and moving things along. My skin is thinner now! Plus I just don't care about hiding anything anymore. I don't think I've got SAD though, because even though the symptoms match, the timing is wrong. Most who suffer in the winter are getting over it now. There's more daylight, even if we're still under two feet of snow this particular year. Nope, for me it's February, March and April. I hate April. It's the worst.
Yesterday I called the doctor's office. I made an appointment for next Monday. I don't know what I'm expecting from this... I refuse to go back on any meds. I may be miserable, but dammit, it's real misery, not some artificially flavoured synthetic drug induced misery.
It's just that all this misery is getting in the way of this LIFE that I want to live.
Hey.... catch those last four words?
I want to live.
I'll just go from there, okay?