Being under-medicated is a bit like being under-employed. Most days, you’re aware that there’s some potential out there that you could be fulfilling. But some days, some days are really and truly unbearably hard.
Yesterday, I woke up after getting a good night’s sleep. I could swear that I “felt pregnant”–nauseated, craving eggs like a crazy woman. I walked the dog. I got my hair cut, something I haven’t done since I can’t remember the last time. I gave myself a big and bright gold star for Behaving Like A Normal Person as I went to bed at a normal hour. 10:00 pm, I think.
Then, I woke up at 1:00 am. I begged my body to let me go back to sleep. I tried all kinds of things to relax. 6:00 am came around. I’m not sure when I finally fell asleep, but I tossed and turned until finally waking at 3:45 pm.
My therapy appointment had come and gone. The yoga class I had wanted to try had been over for hours. Somehow, I was suddenly convinced that I am not pregnant and heartbroken. I was suddenly convinced that I’ll never have a child.
I talked to Nathan, who helped me feel silly, rather than heartbroken. All things considered, silly is a big improvement. Tomorrow, we’ll go to New York and get me back on the meds that work, even when I’m under so much stress. I don’t know how long it will take to feel better. But we’re talking about Klonopin here, which kicks in after an hour or so, so it can’t take too long. Right?