Mother’s Little Helper
Rather than give me a script for some nice Valium or Percocet, one of my OB’s decided that it was a better solution to provide me with some Zoloft to take the edge off things. While I am actually happy about this, it’s not nearly as fun sounding as the other two drugs.
It’s interesting, I have no problems whatsoever in actually TAKING any meds (SSRI’s or not), it was just the initial diagnosis that got under my skin. And now I’m feeling kind of over my anxiety about it (and kind of over myself too, if you smell what The Becky Is Cooking) and ready to focus on (hopefully) feeling good enough to cause considerable mischief AND assorted mayhem.
While I was there, I took the opportunity to also get a prescription for some OCP’s. After Alex was born, there was a period where we were kind of “let’s see what happens,” and despite my previously voiced desires to have another kidlet (but only one more), Alex has managed to cure that ridiculous obsession.
2 kids sounds more than enough to me (at least for now), and besides, since my best friend is getting married in October, I don’t want to be the fat AND pregnant bridesmaid (nor do I want a wee newborn to have to come back from the festivities to care for. It’s even less fun than it sounds, I promise.)
Besides, I am sure whatever copay the insurance God’s foist upon me for these pills will easily cover the pee-stick craze (before you think that we were “trying” or anything, let me assure you that since my thyroid is STILL wonky, my periods come sporadically and obnoxiously. This always led to a “when did I have my period last” freak-out and an inevitable stick to stick in my pee. Ew. I hate that.), and I can stop wondering if every little twinge means another mini-Becky/Dave.
(It took long enough for us to get pregnant with Alex that I have little actual worry that one shot up the old bajina a month would do anything but cause a massive wet spot and subsequent leakage. God, I am sexy. And our sex life is what dreams are made of. Har-dee-har-har.)
I need to properly thank each and every one of you who thoughtfully commented and thought about me during this annoying (and not shining) part of my life. I’d invite you all over for coffee and cigarettes (and maybe, JUST maybe, to watch Rock of Love 2. I AM NOT OBSESSED OR ANYTHING.), but I don’t think anyone is even remotely close enough to do this. BUT IF YOU ARE COME OVER. I WILL EVEN SHAVE THE FORREST ON MY LEGS FOR YOU BECAUSE THAT IS HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU.
Seriously, I always thought that I was one of the few (and not proud) who came from such a colorfully fucked up background. Now, I know that everyone has issues and skeletons and all that jazz, but I am literally FLOORED by how many of you have had similar situations with your parents.
It genuinely makes me wonder how we all aren’t more fucked up (I mean, I suppose you all could be dudes who live in Montana who are NOT actually who you say you are but are actually all named Dwight or Randy, but I doubt it.) as adults, and it further reinforces two things.
1) Not one of us is screwing up our children that badly. Unless they are chained to radiators in dank basements somewhere in your homes. In that case, maybe you are screwing them up. Sorry.
2) I am not alone, and I am honestly thrilled that I told you all about this (well, I’d be MORE thrilled if it weren’t the truth, because that would mean less hangups all around), because it only reinforces this to me.
Mental illness and the fear of it’s impending stronghold absolutely isolates you from everyone else, as it is easily assumed that everyone else around you is disgustingly normal, and the phrase “visit my mother/father at the mental hospital” can be more of a punch line than a reality. I mean, it sounds way funnier than it actually is.
Having done it more than I can even remember, knowing that the worst part is that she fit in there, and coming to grips with the fact that I was the only person in the (insert grade level here) doing this didn’t make real sleepover girl talk, you know?
So seriously, thank you from the bottom of my ickle heart to each and every one of you who saw fit to comment and make me feel like less a freak and more a person in need. I’d like to give you all a hug (but not in a smarmy way), so you’ll have to excuse the baby snot on my left shoulder and the animal cracker residue on my right boob and bear down.
It won’t hurt a bit.
First, I shave my forrest for NO ONE! M. actually likes it better than sporadic shaving and the subsequent zillion razor blade hairs attacking him.
Second, Mmmm…Percocet. I love it so. Damned drug czars.
Third, I pee on so many sticks, I should get a badge! But I shudder to think of what it might look like!
Finally, I look forward to hearing how the Zoloft works out for you. I know I was wishing for Lexapro after my friend got hers. She was so bubbly and happy after that I thought we were going to have to look for black market downers every time we went out to lunch.
And I’m really glad you’re getting over your fears. Afterall, it’s not your family that makes you a freak. It just comes naturally! lol 😀
Zoloft! Yay! Sounds like your doc has a clue, and takes your concerns seriously. This is good.
Remember that it can take two to four weeks for that stuff to kick in and that most of your weird side effects will happen (if they’re going to) in that time period too – so if you feel weird, just note it and wait-and-see a few days. If, however, you have any SERIOUS side effects (allergic reactions, nausea, voices in your head, a sudden urge to adopt Britney’s Spears’ kids) call your doctor back.
I’ve hoarded percocet from many occasions – wisdom teeth, c-sections, kidney stones. Unfortunately, my supply is dry so it looks as if I may need to find something on which to operate to get a fix.
You sound better; I hope you feel better.
I am so glad that you got into your doc and they are on top of it with you.
It is good to know that we are not alone in this world, hey? No matter what path we travel down, there is someone who has gone before or someone to hold our hand.
Bummer about the no ‘fun’ drugs though;P
Glad you got to your doctor; a little something to take the edge off sounds reasonable. 😉
WHUT?! ROCK OF LOVE 2? I had no idea that it had started again…damn, I’ve missed some!
I’m so happy that you are feeling a little better about the whole thing, and have a plan, so to speak.
You’ll be back on track in no time! 🙂
And for the record . . .My name is not Dwight, or Randy . . . . .
It’s Billy-Bob!!!
I’m so glad to hear that your doc is taking care of you with the z spot. I hope you are feeling back to yourself very soon.
Becky – Just back online after my first week back at sucky work (ick).
Am glad to hear there’s help at hand. Three members of my immedate family are nutso (mother=anxiety disorder, sister=panic disorder, brother=schizophrenia) so have similar issues to you on the “seeking help and admitting it” front.
And the hair disease is called trichotillomania. Sadly I have it.
Love to you. xxx
You sound so good, I’d think that shit worked overnight.
I’m so glad you’re getting the help you need.
I need to come over and watch Rock Of Love with you.
I’m so happy that you’re doing this my dear. I’ve been concerned about you since the ickle pooper made his appearance. And you *know* that I sympathize on the turning into your cr*zy parents front (I recently found a site for the children of hoarders, and it made me cry).
Also, despite what you hear on the after school specials, drugs are good for you. They’ll make you feel like yourself again. And “yourself” is a pretty awesome lady.
Feel free to jump on a train and come out here to Ann Arbor. You can distract Ross and me from planning “our specials DAAAAAAY”
the freaky thing is that I have been having the nagging feeling that I needed to get help for my own dark & dreary head-space for a few days now. This has caused me to retreat from the internet and blogs.
But I have my own appointment with my doc tomorrow morning. I am hoping she can help come up with something that will curb the 24/7 sadness. You have have started a revolution.
xo
Blogging about my past did the same thing for me. I realized I was not alone in my experiences.
I’ll take that hug any time.
Again, commenting on a super old post because I’m creepy and read entire archives. YAY!
I work as a case manager for the seriously mentally ill. We joke that it takes one to know one, but honestly? We all worry about whether or not our responses are abnormal or that we’ve becoming ill. Or maybe it’s just me…
Either way, in my experience the clients who have family that actual stick by them are the ones who do the best. She may not know or may never say anything, but you have helped your mother more than you can imagine, just by being there.
Now I just feel badly that you’re suffering through the days when WP didn’t have a spellchecker! I’m so sorry. I want to buy you something. Like a pony. Or a couple.
And I SO get how you’d feel, worrying about becoming mentally ill yourselves. Because that’s the joke in the mental health field, isn’t it? (It was in nursing school).
But thank you. Thank you very much. My mother…my mother and I have a complicated relationship. We always will. I’m okay with that. I guess I kinda have to be.
Thanks for reading that old post. Much love to you. And I’ll be sending you a pony STAT.
*gasp* A PONY!!!! MY DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE!!!
Yeah, it was a joke in my psych classes. First day of Abnormal Psych the professor said “Now… calm down. Every chapter we go over, you WILL discover you have a mental illness. You don’t. Probably.” I did, however, discover that my now-ex boyfriend was a perfect example of a psychopath. That was a fun moment… But now that I’m dealing daily with real symptoms I find myself questioning myself a lot more.
Mothers and daughters always have complicated relationships. It sounds like you are more understanding than most who are in situations that are even marginally similar to yours. It says a lot about your strength. <3
Kay, gonna go wait for my pony!
YOUR PONY IS COMING!
I remember that from Psych Nursing, too. Same deal. The teacher was fantastic, actually, but the joke was always that the only people attracted to that branch of nursing were the crazies.
I, of course, loved it.
Yeah, I loved Abnormal Psych and Forensic Psych the most… again, the “weird” classes. And now that I think about it, my interesting nursing friend wanted to do Psych Nursing. Love her, she’d be great at it.