There have been a lot of recipes and lists around here lately, I’ve noticed. Not so much with the personal stuff. Not that I talk all that much about how I’m feeling, anyway. But I know that I’ve been avoiding it these last few months. Because I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather put on a happy front and let you think we’re all cake and dancing over here. And it is that, a good deal of the time. But there’s also this undercurrent that I just can’t shake.
Here’s the thing: I thought I was going crazy for a while there. I thought the birth control I chose after Pete was born was causing it, so I went to the doctor to tell him to remove it. I wrote out a list of the symptoms and took it in with me. (I was going to transcribe it here, but I can’t find it. It was something like this: “I’m so angry and I can’t stop crying and Sarah Palin! The winking! It makes me furious!” Yes, that was on the list. Really.) But the doctor didn’t say, “Yes, of course it’s the Mirena! Good-bye, Mirena!”
He said I was stressed out, that I have PMDD, a kind of uber-PMS. Featuring delightful symptoms such as:
So, yeah, it sure sounds like I’m a textbook case. But I was angry, because I didn’t want this to be me. I wanted an outside cause for this. Something we could take care of easily. Something that was beyond my control, but within my control to stop. If that makes any sense. Which it doesn’t, I know. But like I said: Going crazy.
That was — as the Palin reference would suggest — back in October or so. My angry self got a second opinion, which was pretty much the same as the first. I still haven’t filled the Zoloft prescription the doctor gave me, because the possible side effects sort of freaked me out. I’ve been trying to reduce the stress levels with exercise and time alone, etc. That was working pretty well for awhile, but the stress level has ratcheted up several notches recently. So here I am again, feeling a little crazy.
I’m not anti-medication. I’m afraid the side effects will be worse than the crazy. And, to be honest, I just want to be stronger than this. But I’m beginning to think that I’m not. Maybe I should just take the darn Zoloft.
I’d appreciate your prayers and any helpful advice you might have. But please don’t give me any lip or snark. It’ll just give you bad mojo, and nobody wants bad mojo.
when it first came out, but lately we’ve been a little obsessed with 
. To the point that someone made me cry with their merciless playing at a recent get-together. I’m not naming names, but you know who you are. And I hope I win “Boom Blox,” because I will take you down on the Wii, my friend.