Saturday I was a bitch on wheels. BITCH ON WHEELS. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I was truly a bitch on wheels. You know those sketches where there's a psychotic woman yelling, "STOP BREATHING!" because everyone around her is annoying? Yeah, that was me. Scott was beside himself trying to figure out how to placate me. Thank you, abilify. Notice that the psychiatrist gave me a freaking anti-psychotic? Niiiiice. And look at the side effects... tardive diskenesia - where you just begin these random neruological movements. Sometimes they don't stop, even after you've quit taking the medication! Let's also not forget neuroleptic malignant syndrome, which probably involves flailing limbs and an inability to form cogent thought. I didn't hear the end of it from Scott, who was a little concerned I was taking a medication for schizophrenics. Nothing against schizophrenics, mind you, it's just that, well, seems as though those drugs would be pretty strong ones.
So I told the shrink that the first time I took Abilify I laid in bed all night, stared at the ceiling, thought of creative Christmas presents for every person I knew for the next SEVENTY FIVE YEARS. I imagined the names of my grandchildren and added them to the list. I was wide awake. She just lowered the dose this week, and on Saturday I couldn't stand anyone touching me. When Scott looked at me, I got pissed off. If Lucy or Asher spilled something, I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. We had these gift certificates for a restaurant I wanted to go to and I couldn't get it out of my mind that I wanted to go there. Never mind the fact that we went the night before. Abilify made my obsessions and ruminations worse. Scott made a really bad tuna casserole to try and pacify me. That's another story in itself. So, no more Abilify.
It's been a good few days. We're trying to decide whether or not to put off Lucy's surgery. It's more than I want to get into here, but basically, it's going to be weeks and months of recovery and change. And I really don't know that I want to turn my 3 year old's world upside down. The procedure we would have done isn't something that NEEDS to be done right now, so we're weighing waiting on it for a few years. IF we wait a few years, there's a possibility we would sell our house this spring. This is exciting to me, because I've been looking at different houses and imagining us in them. And it's fun! And also because I can't imagine us with 3 children in our current house. And neither can Scott. So, there's that.
I'm beginning to be obsessed with weight. Ok, not really beginning. But I am at my goal weight and I keep hearing this little voice in my head (not audible, you know what I mean - please don't direct me back toward the Abilify) that says, "Just two pounds more! Just two pounds more!" As if 2 pounds makes all the happy difference in the world?
This week is full of playdates, one every day - we went to my cousin's today. I love playdates. They make me forget about my stupid worries. Getting together with friends is something I need. Desperately.
I made Asher wait to get his diaper changed for an hour while I shopped at the Gap. I had no more diapers. He had a turd in his pants the size of Long Island, turns out. Sorry, buddy. And I didn't even end up getting those pants I wanted. Now I'm looking for them on Ebay.
My cousin moved to my city today! All of us, in true Smith* style, are sending the welcome wagon over to, well, welcome her. I got her a new journal in which to write all of her experiences. I hope she likes it. And it just dawned on me that she reads this blog - well, she's probably not reading today. Welcome Tam!
And you, how are you?
*Real maiden name not used.