Wednesday, May 24, 2017

And so it begins.

It's happening, I'm afraid - the ugliness that comes with weaning.

For the last three-ish days, I have been a roller coaster of emotions.  My moods are swinging so much, you'd think they were in an open marriage in the 30's.  

My poor family is getting the crap end of the stick.  Well, both ends are crap, really, but it's not fair they should have to suffer, too.

I've gone from just fine to down-right *itchy in a matter of seconds.  I've felt horribly out of control of what comes out of my mouth, not to mention the thoughts that have been going through my head.  And I hate it.  

I had to keep reminding myself, last night, that this isn't me.  This was expected when I chose to go off my meds.  I knew this could happen.  I had hoped it wouldn't, but it is, unfortunately.  One thing I'm trying with all of my might to hold on to, is my clarity.  It was so hard, last night.  I felt I was getting swallowed up; like I was being dragged down.  I prayed and prayed, so desperately, for Heavenly Father to stay with me, even though I felt I didn't deserve it.  I was afraid to open my eyes after I got in bed - I was convinced there was evil lurking in the dark corners of my bedroom.  So much, that I was convinced one of my children was invoking evil spirits into our home.  I was afraid I was hallucinating.  It was very scary.  (My husband's out of town, else I would have had him perform an exorcism of sorts.)

I was convinced my husband would be better off not being married to me, that my kids would be better off not living with me.  I was convinced people wouldn't believe that it was the medication screwing with my head, that I was really losing it and still need to be on it.  I felt if I told them, it would expose my weakness and have them either treat me as broken or not take me seriously because of my mental instability.  

I have to get out of my head.  I have to write this down and work my way through it with words.  If I don't, I might forget this isn't me.  I might lose myself and be swallowed up.  I might not make it through this with poise and grace.  That's actually not as funny as I would originally hope it to be.  I said some things on a social media website that made me look like someone I'm not.  I find myself raring for a fight, not wanting to back down, with an increasing desire to yell at people and say things I can't take back.  It took me a while to come up with a me-like response to a humbling couple of comments, a couple of my friends made.  I felt betrayed by them, but I knew I deserved what they had to say. 

There was a fire at Walmart, last night, and I was so pissed I had to leave without getting the rest of my things (I was partially through the self-checkout process, I could've been done in a matter of minutes).  There was no visible fire, just some smoke coming from the side of the building, somewhere.  I was certain I would've been fine.  Still am, but that's beside the point.  I was angry.  And loud.  And super stubborn.  And my daughter, who was with me, was not pleased with her mother's behavior.  She and I were supposed to watch a movie, together, last night, but she couldn't bring herself to, because of her anger towards my actions.  She had a right to be angry.  These last few days, whenever she expresses an opinion about something, I pretty much jump at the chance to tell her how wrong she is.  Or so she says.  And I don't let up.  I keep going till she says, "this is turning into a lecture".  I do not want to ruin the pathway of communication between us, because I can't control my words at the moment.  I want her to know she can still talk to me and I will actually listen with respect and love.  It takes continuous effort and self-affirmations that I can do this.  I'm trying to think before I speak or react.  It's not easy.  Like, at all.  

I feel like I want to tell someone all of this, but I can't.  I don't want people to think I'm suicidal (which, I'm not), nor do I want them to think, like I said, that I need to be on meds, that going off of them was a mistake.  I don't want people (ok, I say people, but I mostly mean my family), to not take me seriously or treat me with more disrespect than they already do, because "Mom's just a psycho".  I don't know how long this is going to take, but I sincerely hope my family and I can make it through this, relatively unscathed.

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