Something snapped. Something, deep inside, stirred the waters and brought anxiety back. I didn't even ovulate this month. I kept taking the ovulation tests in the morning, waiting for the happy face in the digital screen to indicate the LH surge; I got nothing, day after day after day, and anxiety built up to the point I was throwing up.
I thought having my parents here would bring great happiness; it brought worries and absurd concerns to my mind instead. We left for a long road trip on July 8 and I was sick like a dog, not being able to eat and throwing up anything that I had in my stomach. I tried hiding it the days before, but there was no way to hide it anymore. I barely enjoyed our trip. We went to LA, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, and Yosemite National Park, all in 9 days and nights. I was sick for 4 days, which is the usual amount of time it takes for my body to slow down the tremendous amount of anxiety I feel.
Now it's almost time for my parents to go back home and I feel guilty I didn't enjoy their company enough. We're spending this weekend in town and then they're gone on Monday. Three weeks, all gone.
I talked to my therapist yesterday and she says my symptoms point to the classic case of depression, but with a huge amount of anxiety. I am not happy, that's no surprise. I feel resentful, ungrateful, negative, fearful; I feel I navigate through my days as a dead weight that just floats around doing things, but I am not engaged. My feelings are not there; my heart is not there. There is no hope, no goal, no direction; I have no pleasure in life, no satisfaction.
I had a long talk with my husband and questioned my being off medication. Is it worth it? All this pain, all this sickness? Should we really have a baby? It's been three months off meds - and three months trying to conceive. And what if I get really sick of mys stomach and anxious like I've got before while I'm pregnant? Isn't it going to be really bad for the baby? What are the pros and cons of all this?
I have no answers. I'm hanging in there, but my strength is failing me. I want that once-a-day pill that made it all easier; that tiny bundle of chemicals that makes my serotonin go where it is supposed to go; I want to stop over reacting, over worrying, over fearing. I want to be freed of my self destruction. I want so many things but I know I need to try to cope. Cope, cope, cope. Cope until I'm suicidal again? Until I've lost 10 pounds and people start asking me questions? When do I say it is enough?
My husband thinks I can try being off meds a little longer. I tend to agree. I can always be on meds again. It is painful, though. It is very painful. It is the hardest thing I've ever done, I guess. I'm depressed again and I'm trying to cope without meds. That's pretty freaking hard, and anyone who's suffered from depression knows it. To top it off, there is a lot of anxiety too. It seems I got 'lucky' with my gene pool, which brings me another question: do I want to pass those genes on to another generation? I don't know anymore.