Off my meds...off my rocker

Okay. I'm officially off my wonder drug. The tiny pink anti-poopiness pill. Gone are the smooth level days that I'd come to rely on over the past few months. I'm back. Stone cold sober as a matter of fact. Well maybe it's not that bad. No, wait, it is. I'm up, I'm down. My anxiety level isn't too bad right now but give it some time and I will once again start feeling my heart beat out of my chest for absolutely no fucking reason. I hate it.

Before I started taking the medication I hated the fact that there was a chance that I even needed to take it. I worried about the long term effects it would have. I felt a weird kind of shame and embarrassment that I couldn't be normal like everyone else. HA! I felt weak. BUT, after my first couple of days I felt none of that anymore. I just felt GOOD. CALM. LEVEL. CLEAR. I have never in my life felt those things all at one time before. I didn't know what it was like to sit down at the end of the day and not feel my heart racing. It became very clear to me that I would rather live another 10 years feeling good, than live another 40 feeling the way I have felt for most of my life. I guess this is what they mean by quality of life.

The answers to why this is, are still out of my reach. A chemical imbalance? Years of practice? Does it stem from my early years with an alcoholic mother? Or my later years with a controlling, overbearing, manipulative mother? (and yeah I have a father, but for some reason he doesn't fit into my mental stability one way or the other..hehe) Would therapy work? Maybe. But who has years to invest in the process of dredging up all the events of your life that you've worked so hard to try to forget? Really? Who the fuck wants to do that, when you can take a tiny pink pill and smooth it all over? Go ahead. Judge me. I dare you.

Okay, then. So, if it worked so well, why the hell did I go off, you ask? Well, maybe you didn't ask, but I'll tell you anyway. We are officially trying for baby number two. Before you start on about how a crazy person like me shouldn't be having another baby, let me just say this. Crazy, anxiety-ridden people are totally allowed to have babies! So there. Anyway, after speaking with my PCP and my OBGYN and doing some research on my own, I discovered that at the very least my baby would end up going through withdrawals after being born. Worst case scenario, severe birth defects. So there you have it. That's why I am going through withdrawals now and hating every fucking minute of it. I'll survive, though, because that's what I do. I just won't be happy doing it.

The good news is that once I get pregnant all should be well with the world again. The pregnancy hormones are like medicine to me, so I really need to get busy, if you know what I mean. The bad news...I have an increased chance of PPD after delivery, so as soon as the baby is born I will back to popping that tiny pink pill again.

The End.