Anticipation

I'm scheduled this afternoon to go see a psychiatrist and get on some sort of new anti-depressant. I've been without for a month? two? now, and it is readily apparent to myself and everyone around me that I need to be sucking down something to keep me on an even keel. I stopped taking everything - meds, supplements, vitamins - when I was at the worst of my migraines in hopes that something would change; that the cause of my problems was ironically hidden in one of the bottles that should have been helping me. That turned out to be true: Zoloft appeared to be holding the smoking bottle. And now, after another two-week relapse of Z-induced migraines, I appear to be free of their evil grasp (4 days in a row now!)

So, now I'm going to lose another 2-3 hours out of another day off to go sit with another doctor. Part of me is screaming and ripping out my hair with frustration, but I am also so desperate to not feel like there is a bowling ball in my chest, divorce is the only answer, and that sex is out of the question (even with myself!) that I will gladly schlep all the way down to Stanford and try this again.

I'm trying to not dwell on all the ways this could go wrong: I'll be plagued with more headaches, new meds will whack my libido again, I'll gain more weight. Maybe I should try to consider them a bit - I really do have every hope in the world pinned on this doctor and whatever prescription I walk out of his office with today, and maybe that's not such a good thing. But its the only way I've gotten through the week. Three more days and things witll start to improve. Two more days and I'll start a new prescription. Don't collapse in tears in the middle of class; you'll have something in hand tomorrrow. That sort of thing.

Its hard to imagine that this is not how everyone else in the world feels, and that there's something wrong with me because I can't shake it off, or work through it, or not let it stop/affect me like everyone else seems to be able to do. Its an amazing reminder being off meds that a) no, really, I do need them, and b) how bad life sucks without them. I almost want to put some of this feeling in a small glass vial, its eery dark light swirling inside, as a reminder for when I *do* feel better. So that I don't forget and can better appreciate the difference there is.

Blech.