Ever have those days where you wake up, and you’re already done with the day? Yeah, that’s me most every day because of chronic fatigue. Today was that to a higher degree, with my only goals being getting laundry washed, and washing my hair. The former was going to be… I won’t say easy, but I knew that I could make it happen. The latter? I woke up too fatigued to even think about bathing. The mere idea of it was too exhausting. But I figured that as long as the baby cooperated in going down for a nap in a timely fashion, then I could probably work myself around to it.
Care to guess who didn’t want to nap today? Yeaaaah.
I pulled out all the stops too — plenty of food and fluids, play and cuddles. She didn’t want to be put down, but she didn’t want to go to sleep either. She recently likes to shove hard and claw at moles and freckles on my torso and grab my neck and other bits, which um… no. Fuck no. Anxiety through the roof no. Put you down before I scream no. Except she didn’t want that. Fuck? Yeah. Oh yeah, and when she was being happy to stay put laying against me, she kept pushing against my arms instead of staying centered, and that hurts. It’s like having a heavy-ass bowling ball resting all its weight on a scrawny ass arm, which… well. See the before cycle of putting down and pissy baby.
Suffices to say, my panxiety hit the point of wanting to scream and break things. I know that such won’t help so I fight myself to not doing it, but man. All the tiny things were doing their best to contribute to the spiking panxiety too, like noticing everyone elses’ mess encroaching on my area, to being pissed off that I didn’t manage to finish my daily writing until 1:30pm (a task I usually knock out before noon even on weekends), to the fact my hair was dirty and I think most people agree that having that dwelling on your brain (literally *rimshot*) makes for some dark and unhappy thoughts.
So of course, she falls asleep just as my husband gets back from work. Sod’s Law, right? I growled at him a bit more about messy stuff and he obligingly took a stack of things to sort through. Bless him, he’s a doll. I made sure to give him a bit of affection once I managed to drag myself through the bath. And then he took her with to pick up her big sister from school, meaning I got the precious few minutes of alone time that I direly needed to finish my recovery from the panxiety of the morning. Now everyone is home and having a good time together, so all’s well that ends well.
I will say on the subject of anxiety that I am thinking I will have to talk to my psych when I see her at the end of the month. I think it has continued to be severe enough that I need to get on something for it. I know that antidepressants are the usual approach, but the one I’m on doesn’t seem to touch it. It does a great job of keeping the depression mainly at bay, so I’m not keen to change it. I also don’t want to have to go through the hell of adjusting to a different antidepressant — adjusting to this one twice has been rough enough. In some ways, I’m better able to handle it now; in the past, when I’d hit this level, things would be broken, tears would flow, and it would be a crapshoot as to whether or not my brain was telling me I should off myself. That I could speak mainly politely and not shout or break anything or anyone… it’s really good, and the coming down is a lot faster than it used to be. But it could be better. I don’t think that I’m greedy for wanting better. An actual quality of life would be faboo.
Anyways, hope everyone is well… and also chuckling with amusement at how all of us show up more frequently when we have something to complain about. xD