My therapist has returned, ladies and gentlemen! And I am so glad. She was in Vermont, but came back before Irene. As I gushed about how much I LOVE the babies I’ll be caring for this fall in my attempt to earn a living, she said, “It sounds like you’re ready to have your own.” Well, that was really good to hear! But I have to get off of these meds before I can justify trying to get pregnant. Tomorrow, I’m heading to NYC to meet with my psychiatrist (a different person, one with an M.D./Ph.D. and a prescription pad) to discussing shaving a little bit more off of my daily dose of Klonopin.
I am excited about the idea of going off the anti-anxiety medication Klonopin and, after that, my SNRI, Effexor, because after I stop taking those pills, we can start trying to get pregnant. We will have that option. I am apprehensive about even just this next step because, as I have said before, I can feel the Klonopin kick in, calm me down and help me start my day. I want this so badly it hurts. I hate that the pharmacist knows our faces. I wish that this process simply involved throwing all the dangerous pills away and not looking back. I sometimes wonder if I am somehow missing whatever basic information other humans have that allows them to get through a day without feeling panicky. They must know something I don’t know! I’m told that this is not true. That there is no key. It’s just hard. And that sucks.
You know what else was hard? August. And August did not suck, at least not every day. I took my “as needed” Xanax a few more times than I do when I’m in regular therapy. I did a lot of talking to Nathan about why I felt scared of [insert mundane, not dangerous object or activity]. I also went out to dinner with people I hardly know (a really big deal for me) and had a good time. I left a job I loved (my summer gig at the child care center) and then went out and got a new job. Two jobs. I went to the doctor. Two different doctors, in two different locations. I went grocery shopping by myself, voluntarily. I do not go to grocery stores alone, people! This morning, I took public transportation to work and home from work and did not panic. The mere thought of getting on a train used to trigger hyperventilation and lead to many skipped classes. And I like trains. Today, I took the bus. And I hate the bus. I haven’t had a migraine in ten whole days [and I am now knocking on wood].
In sum, I did it. I got through August. Not only did I get through it, but I kicked butt. I was happy–am happy. I am also quite proud of myself. September is going to bring new adjustments at work and in my medication. I am scared. I don’t want to take the bus. I don’t want to feel more anxiety. I don’t want to deal with Nathan being gone a lot, as school starts up again. But you know what I have to say to you, September?
BRING IT ON. I can take it. I am one tough lady.