Toto. I'm not in Kansas anymore

Remember...Kansas is a state of mind.

Just in a slump over here, but one that I put myself in on purpose (trying to switch meds to attempt the whole "having a family thing").

I'm down to the lowest dose on my AD and almost off of the Neurontin (which has made it easier to get to sleep at night.) I've been getting to bed between 3 and 4 am, which is when I've felt sleepy. Soon, I will be tracking on New Zealand time. Sadly, I live in the midwestern US.

I feel very lucky in that the timing is working where I can phone it in, on the couch, in my pajamas. Maybe that isn't entirely good since that also means I:

a) struggle with the whole "showering thing". Makes me so tired. All of that dressing and undressing.

b) am not very useful around the house. But feel somewhat anxious about messiness.

c) feel no need to LEAVE the house. Or speak to anyone. That can't be good. But leaving makes me very anxious.

d) don't like to make decisions. For example, what to eat? I have no idea. Easier to skip it.

e) need a governess who kicks my butt around and tells me what to do and where to be.

I would also like to stop bursting into tears during commercials, or the news, or TV shows. Supernanny, Queer Eye and the TV movie version of 3 Men & a Baby all made me weep yesterday. A happy weeping. But, weeping? Wha?

On a good note, the dog has been very very happy to have me around. I sleep a lot and drop food accidentally because I feel clumsy and uncoordinated. She is thrilled.

Med withdrawal. I'm doing it for the dog.


Entries from my personal diary....continued

Now that I am married, I am living with someone who is beginning to know me intimately and who can scrutinize the details of my day-to-day routine.

We sleep in the same bedroom so I cannot hide there. I cannot hide my slide into this episode…it is all around us. My clothes, books and belongings are scattered all over the floor and furniture. The temporary paralysis is back and it is difficult to move my arms, my legs. I forget small important things, sleep for hours, become more withdrawn and have stopped answering the phone.

I still work because I can lose myself in it…it keeps me focused when I feel as though my emotions will scatter like marbles across the floor. My hair is unkempt and I have stopped wearing make-up. On days that I work at home, I go without taking a shower not because I want to, but because I can’t bear to be vulnerable without clothes or to have water beat down on my sensitive skin.

My husband is a kind and wise man who sees past these things, but I still think that he is more frustrated and confused than he lets on.

I’ve been through this enough times that I can recognize the external warning signs when the effectiveness of my meds is slipping. I warn him that I think this is more than just a temporary gray mood attributable to the winter weather. I begin to realize what great coping mechanisms I had developed to survive these periods of time…and how ridiculous and impossible it would be to revert to these coping mechanisms in the middle of a marriage.

How I have depended upon having control of my living space, down to the placement of spoons in the drawer and magazines on the table! How I’ve needed complete silence to keep from jumping out of my skin with exhausted tension. How not answering the phone helps me to avoid wasting any energy with social talk or helps me hide my condition from the world.

I am a hermit crab who feels in danger of losing her shell. So I keep backing into it tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter...



I am folding upon myself, like a pocketknife or a paper crane. Except that I keep getting smaller and smaller and I don't know when it will end.