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When your past visits you.

Something happened this weekend that brought me swiftly back to a specific time in my life. It was just a little story on the news, but instantly I was back in my old life circa 1997-2002. Last night I had vivid dreams about picking up dry cleaning and firing actresses. I woke up with deep, deep anxiety. Seriously I was all in a sweat and my heart was racing.

I have had stupid dreams about my old life out west often, but usually the sick feeling will sort stay with me for several hours. This morning I am proud to say that I woke up, acknowledged the anxiety and then just told myself the truth: that is not my life anymore. It will never be my life again. I have moved on.

One of the sick and fucked up things about infertility is that you can never really escape your past. Each active cycle has residual emotions from a previous cycle. And then I imagine that even once you get pregnant there is still the dirt and grime clinging to you, that ick and fear of waiting for the shit storm that that you are all too familiar with to happen. I wonder if having an actual child after infertility is like the biggest mind blow. Are you suddenly free or do you feel like at any moment it could all be over?

When I was briefly pregnant in late December, early January I was miserable. Honestly. Not physically. But mentally I was completely in a constant state of dread. I knew that if something horrible happened that it would be unlike any horrible I had ever known. A specific emotion that I had witnessed in friends and loved ones, but never really walked through.

And I could beat myself up about it. I am really damn good at self blame. Maybe in my darkest, quiet moments there is still a little part of me that thinks that my doubts made me unpregnant. But I don’t really think I did something. I think shit happens. And it sucks ass when it does.

This weekend I was talking to Sarah about some mirroring personal attitude changes that we both have been working on. She told me about a book that had helped her with her internal shift. I am going to nudge her to blog about it because she is so beautifully eloquent on the subject. But during one of our rapid fire e-mails I told her that I had finally really turned a corner on my depression. I mean sure the medication helps, maybe it even saved me, but I think it also got me to a place where I could evaluate. Elevate.

Things I have let go:

my old job out west

my inability to win lost friendships back

body hating (ok, totally a work in progress, but when I say I have a fat ass I do it with MUCH more love)

and…big shocker (at least to me): infertility

The personal statement that is rocking my world right now: I can’t change the things that can’t be changed.

I shared this with Mother late last night and she reminded me of the Serenity Prayer and something else clicked. Hating on myself, being suffocated by depression, wallowing in the misery of infertility- those were addictions for me. I was (am) addicted to the sadness. It is comforting and familiar and easy to hid in. It doesn’t push me or challenge me, it keeps me anchored down.

So I am going to be working on letting it all go. I can’t change so much, but I can change how I deal with it.

What are you letting go? How can we help each other?

And then…

On your way back home from a mad dash to get your much needed refill of antidepressants you hear Beth Orton sing to you. And she sings Ooh Child. And then you cry. And you realize that you needed to hear this song and that you needed this cry. And then you think that someday things will be brighter.

And maybe the Universe isn’t a total asshole because it had the good sense to let me hear the entire damn song.

i’m under there…somewhere.

 

not talking about it

There are things that I am not writing about now in the hopes that if I can push it out of my mind my life will be easier lived. It isn’t working. While the W is helping with the major stuff, there is this residue of loss all over me and it isn’t fucking leaving. I’m sorry if I am not commenting on your blogs as much as I used to. I’m sorry if I am not responding to your e-mail or voice mail. I’m sorry that when you do catch me on the phone I burst into tears and make no sense.

And that is all I will say. And I hate that I said anything at all. But just in case you think I am living the shiny, happy month of March…well not so much.

A new week and a new drug.

Most of my weekend was spent in a haze of sleeping in. I had no desire to DO anything, go anywhere or be me. Even sleeping was exhausting.

There was a nice couple of hours on Saturday morning where I felt sort of normal. Ah…normal. This normalcy can be attributed to getting out of the house and being productive for someone else. The last couple of Saturday mornings I have been spent working at a hair salon for the woman that does GM’s hair. She recently began the process of opening her own salon so in exchange for GM’s weekly hair do I give her a couple of hours on Saturday sweeping, answering the phone, washing and folding towels…I have a fantasy that once the salon officially opens it will be this bustle of energy environment that will feed my extroverted soul.

This morning I had my check in with my wonderful doctor to discuss how the Z was treating me. I knew that there was a good chance that she would want me to remain on the Z and give it a longer chance of settling in, but I have gotten so annoyed with the haze that I really wanted to try something else.

I explained that the heaviest depression was gone- the doomsday hell. But I still have problems finding the energy or desire to get out of bed and once I am up I just feel so damn blah and dull. I honestly feel like dryer lint.
She pulled out a long list of other drugs to try and said that it can take time to find the right drug for my body and that she supported my desire to change things up. Here is where I plead my case for wellbutrin as something to try next. I told her that I had read some of the data that said that it could help jump start weight loss and that was something I was really interested in. We went over the other side effects and discussed dosage and in no time I had a prescription.

Some of you asked for more info about the connection between this anti-D and weight so here are some links about weight loss and wellbutrin: Wellbutrin & Weightloss,  Bupropion for weight loss.

Of course I am not planning on this being a magic pill, I never am. But if it can help me find the desire to be myself- or at least a version that wants to wake up in the morning and be present in the world, then I will be thrilled. I am so tired of being tired. I miss having energy. I want it back. & for fuck’s sake I hope this new pill doesn’t come with crazy dreams. If I have one more dream about my old job in California I will lose it. Seriously hating the dreams.

I am really, really behind in e-mail returns and blog reading so that is my goal this week. But to be honest I am struggling pretty hard on just keeping my shit together. I feel like I have tiny little fractures and at any moment I might crumble.

*Note to reader/commenter Salome will you click on the icon at the top of this blog that says “write me” and send me an e-mail directly? For some reason every response I send to your yahoo account gets bounced back & it is starting to give me a complex…

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