I was poking through my Livejournal a bit today; that’s where I daily post, ’cause locked down and ‘safe’ and ‘private’. I’ve also got a 750words.com account I use for brain dumping, but that’s just that — brain dumping in its purest form (which is actually incredibly useful for helping me converse about things that annoy me after the fact, and just to get things out of my head that I didn’t realize were there). But yes, the LJ is my daily log, and I had been going back through it to backtag some posts relating to a continued incident with a person to make it easier to reference for myself, and just general scanning of things.
What have I learned?
Well, turns out my chronic fatigue has totally been getting worse. I saw that I was reporting a sharp decrease in energy in September/October, and I know that’s been getting worse. I thought that was the case, but I hadn’t been completely sure either. You know how it goes — when you’re looking backwards, unless it’s a specific flashpoint of bad, you sort of half-convince yourself that maybe you’ve been exaggerating to yourself. Turns out, nope, ha ha. Things have been pretty crap, and while I hope that it picks up and I can manage to say, do dishes on the regular, I’m not counting on anything.
I’ve also been able to note that my mental health has totally and utterly crapped out in a massive way since coming off of my meds — big surprise, that. It wasn’t so bad coming off of the sertraline (Zoloft), mind. Yes, I was a bit wibbly, but no real harm done. Coming off of the quetiapine (Seroquel), on the other hand? Jaysus, there are no words. Mind, I’m still doing better than non-pregnant non-medicated, but my anxiety is climbing back through the roof, it’s harder to ignore my OCD, and jeez, my sleep. My poor poor sleep. That’s sort of getting better, but my husband continues to park himself on the couch to be on the safe side. I’m also wondering if my combination will be nearly as effective after Pregnancy Roulette finishes rampaging through my body, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there; I figure as long as I get back on the Seroquel immediately, that should head off the worst of potential postpartum mood drama.
But yeah, spoons… I’ve heard of spoons. I’ve not seen one in awhile though. I’m annoyed ’cause I would like to be of vague use, but that risks too much of a vicious cycle ’cause getting annoyed at being annoyed at being mad at being angry, and I’d rather not get on that ride. I’m too tired for any rides. So instead, I just try to take a deep breath and be easy on myself. If I can manage to do more than drool on my desk, then I celebrate that. Otherwise… well. I don’t need to go pushing myself off the deep end when I’m already dangling off the edge of the diving board, I reckon. I’m okay, as long as I don’t really do anything or deal with anything. It’s not ideal, but it’s better to accept the status quo for what it is and hope that better will come.
Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.