No consistency with Cymbalta
Although the Cymbalta "seems" to be working at times, it certainly isn't a cure all for depression. At least for me anyway. I go up and down with mood swings like I have NEVER done before. WTF?
Tim and I had "THE" worst fight in the history of our relationship the other day. I did something during that fight that I have never done before. I completely lost my mind and wiped off everything on his nightstand with one quick swoop. Those items included, but limited to the following; a crystal lamp, full ashtray, full can of Red Bull, a basket filled with jewelry.
Afterwards, we talked about my mood swings. I am just praying he will hang in here with me through this bullshit. I am going back to the doctor to have a heart to heart with him this week. Normally, I go every other month. And truthfully, before my severe depression this time, and since then, I haven't really been that honest with him. I just keep saying everything is fine with me. And things aren't fine. Better? Yes. Good? Sometimes. More often not good.
I don't lie to my doctor because of fear or insecurity. Really. Do you wanna know why I lie to him? Because by the time I reach his office, I am actually exhausted from stress. His office is located about 20 miles from my home and 40 miles from my office. And it is NEVER a good drive to get there. I am hardly ever surprised by the traffic. I even leave earlier than it should take with traffic. But somehow, every fucking time I go in that direction I am literally hitting my brakes every second because it is always bumper to bumper type traffic. I have tried other routes, but to no avail.
So, when I finally DO get there, my brain is so mushy I can't even think straight. So I take the lazy way out. I tell him I'm fine.
I went to my cousin's birthday party today. She turned 6 years old. Her parents hired ponies for the party. My son was impressed.......
As I was sitting watching the pony rides, my cousin, who happens to be a LSW sat beside me and we began to chat about my depression. She is probably the only one in my family who has even the smallest inkling into my condition. But if you don't suffer from depression, you can never truly know the insanity of it. Anyway, she recommended that I go see the doctor and ask him to prescribe a new medication but she didn't remember the name of it. She only knew that it was mixture of Prozac with something else??? Oh, he'll love that description of medicine I am sure, lol. But you know what? I am game for anything at this point. Still only enjoying either 2 or 3 consecutive days of "normalcy" and its just not cutting the mustard for me. Because after those 2 or 3 days I feel as though I am right back where I started. Paralyzed to join the human race. I do absolutely NOTHING but sleep, cry, whine, fight, and create resentments against those who love me and have been so supportive with all this. God, I hate myself sometimes. And yes, I hate the disease, I know. But I hate myself more at times.
Thursday we went to Atlantic City for an overnight jaunt. I had a blast. Love those slot machines. But Tim doesn't put one thin coin in the machines. He just follows me around until I get comfy on a machine, he walks around and returns within 5 minutes. And then he stands over me until I feel as though he is just waiting for me to be done. So after dragging him around 3 casino's, I finally let him off the hook and we returned to our room at Caesar's. My Dad gets rooms comp'ed to him for all his time spent down there. So when we returned to our room, I lit about 20 candles all over the room and proceeded to the jacuzzi. When I came out, toweled myself off and came into the bedroom, I heard that oh so familiar sound. Snoring. GREEEEAAAT!!!!! So much for romance. I was so livid that I thought a blood vessel popped in my brain. It wasn't even midnight. I made as much noise as possible, and moved around the bed like I was on fire. Nothing. He never even moved. I finally threatened him that I was going back to the casino, and he picked his head up off the pillow, smiled, nodded and plopped his head back down. After 3 threatening pleas, I got dressed and headed back downstairs. I was out gambling from 2:00 am and returned to the room at 5:14 am. And ya know what? HE NEVER EVEN KNEW I LEFT!
We woke up at 1:00pm, got dressed in silence (oh he knew I was beyond mad at this point), got the car and headed home. He finally spoke about 15 minutes out of AC, asking me if I wanted to stop here or there. "Nope" was the only word I used all the way home. 2 and a half hours of the silent treatment. We got home about 5pm. Saturday I worked and my boss invited us over for dinner that night. I texted him that WE were going, and he should be home by 5 to get ready. He was home by 5, a miracle itself. We went to my boss's house. We had so much fun. So at midnight, I turned to Tim and said I wanted to go home. The drinking and drunk talk was beginning to get a little out of hand amongst the hosts and guests so I wanted to duck out before they got too crazy. We came home, and watched TV, cleaned, did laundry and went to bed. We went out Sunday morning. A quick trip down the shore to pick up my little guy. Since I was the one who wanted him home for this party, Ty's dad insisted that I come and get him. I reluctantly agreed. And my ex must have called me 10 times. Because I am famous for telling him I would do something, and then go back to bed. I don't blame him for being skeptical as to whether I would show up or not. He knows about this last bout of depression, and has been trying so hard to be supportive.
As we were driving home, we stopped at a garden center, bought flowers for Mom's grave, a small cafe set for my patio, and a few other odds and ends.
When we got home, Tim informed me that he wouldn't be accompanying me to my cousin's party. Surprise, surprise.
After the party, I went to Walmart and then came home.
So I was out Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I made 4 days of actual living like a normal person! I am trying NOT to focus on the downslide I usually experience a positive bout of normal living. But since I am up, blogging at 3:42am, chances are not good that I will make that 5th day of normal living. I am trying so hard to get my mind off of that fear, I'm making myself a little crazy.
So, goodnight and keep your fingers crossed that I actually can get out of bed for the 5th day in a row and be productive!
Hugs,
Suboxone Mom
Tim and I had "THE" worst fight in the history of our relationship the other day. I did something during that fight that I have never done before. I completely lost my mind and wiped off everything on his nightstand with one quick swoop. Those items included, but limited to the following; a crystal lamp, full ashtray, full can of Red Bull, a basket filled with jewelry.
Afterwards, we talked about my mood swings. I am just praying he will hang in here with me through this bullshit. I am going back to the doctor to have a heart to heart with him this week. Normally, I go every other month. And truthfully, before my severe depression this time, and since then, I haven't really been that honest with him. I just keep saying everything is fine with me. And things aren't fine. Better? Yes. Good? Sometimes. More often not good.
I don't lie to my doctor because of fear or insecurity. Really. Do you wanna know why I lie to him? Because by the time I reach his office, I am actually exhausted from stress. His office is located about 20 miles from my home and 40 miles from my office. And it is NEVER a good drive to get there. I am hardly ever surprised by the traffic. I even leave earlier than it should take with traffic. But somehow, every fucking time I go in that direction I am literally hitting my brakes every second because it is always bumper to bumper type traffic. I have tried other routes, but to no avail.
So, when I finally DO get there, my brain is so mushy I can't even think straight. So I take the lazy way out. I tell him I'm fine.
I went to my cousin's birthday party today. She turned 6 years old. Her parents hired ponies for the party. My son was impressed.......
As I was sitting watching the pony rides, my cousin, who happens to be a LSW sat beside me and we began to chat about my depression. She is probably the only one in my family who has even the smallest inkling into my condition. But if you don't suffer from depression, you can never truly know the insanity of it. Anyway, she recommended that I go see the doctor and ask him to prescribe a new medication but she didn't remember the name of it. She only knew that it was mixture of Prozac with something else??? Oh, he'll love that description of medicine I am sure, lol. But you know what? I am game for anything at this point. Still only enjoying either 2 or 3 consecutive days of "normalcy" and its just not cutting the mustard for me. Because after those 2 or 3 days I feel as though I am right back where I started. Paralyzed to join the human race. I do absolutely NOTHING but sleep, cry, whine, fight, and create resentments against those who love me and have been so supportive with all this. God, I hate myself sometimes. And yes, I hate the disease, I know. But I hate myself more at times.
Thursday we went to Atlantic City for an overnight jaunt. I had a blast. Love those slot machines. But Tim doesn't put one thin coin in the machines. He just follows me around until I get comfy on a machine, he walks around and returns within 5 minutes. And then he stands over me until I feel as though he is just waiting for me to be done. So after dragging him around 3 casino's, I finally let him off the hook and we returned to our room at Caesar's. My Dad gets rooms comp'ed to him for all his time spent down there. So when we returned to our room, I lit about 20 candles all over the room and proceeded to the jacuzzi. When I came out, toweled myself off and came into the bedroom, I heard that oh so familiar sound. Snoring. GREEEEAAAT!!!!! So much for romance. I was so livid that I thought a blood vessel popped in my brain. It wasn't even midnight. I made as much noise as possible, and moved around the bed like I was on fire. Nothing. He never even moved. I finally threatened him that I was going back to the casino, and he picked his head up off the pillow, smiled, nodded and plopped his head back down. After 3 threatening pleas, I got dressed and headed back downstairs. I was out gambling from 2:00 am and returned to the room at 5:14 am. And ya know what? HE NEVER EVEN KNEW I LEFT!
We woke up at 1:00pm, got dressed in silence (oh he knew I was beyond mad at this point), got the car and headed home. He finally spoke about 15 minutes out of AC, asking me if I wanted to stop here or there. "Nope" was the only word I used all the way home. 2 and a half hours of the silent treatment. We got home about 5pm. Saturday I worked and my boss invited us over for dinner that night. I texted him that WE were going, and he should be home by 5 to get ready. He was home by 5, a miracle itself. We went to my boss's house. We had so much fun. So at midnight, I turned to Tim and said I wanted to go home. The drinking and drunk talk was beginning to get a little out of hand amongst the hosts and guests so I wanted to duck out before they got too crazy. We came home, and watched TV, cleaned, did laundry and went to bed. We went out Sunday morning. A quick trip down the shore to pick up my little guy. Since I was the one who wanted him home for this party, Ty's dad insisted that I come and get him. I reluctantly agreed. And my ex must have called me 10 times. Because I am famous for telling him I would do something, and then go back to bed. I don't blame him for being skeptical as to whether I would show up or not. He knows about this last bout of depression, and has been trying so hard to be supportive.
As we were driving home, we stopped at a garden center, bought flowers for Mom's grave, a small cafe set for my patio, and a few other odds and ends.
When we got home, Tim informed me that he wouldn't be accompanying me to my cousin's party. Surprise, surprise.
After the party, I went to Walmart and then came home.
So I was out Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I made 4 days of actual living like a normal person! I am trying NOT to focus on the downslide I usually experience a positive bout of normal living. But since I am up, blogging at 3:42am, chances are not good that I will make that 5th day of normal living. I am trying so hard to get my mind off of that fear, I'm making myself a little crazy.
So, goodnight and keep your fingers crossed that I actually can get out of bed for the 5th day in a row and be productive!
Hugs,
Suboxone Mom
Labels: Cymbalta, downslide, drunk, productive, romance
posted by SuboxoneMom @ 3:07 AM
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