Posted by Ilene on February 5, 2004, at 14:44:02
I'm having a bad day. Maybe if I vent some I'll feel better. I don't have anyone else to talk to. I wish there were someone to take care of me, but my husband is 3000 miles away, and he wants me to take care of him. He does as much as he is able, I guess, but I don't think anyone could take care of a person who is nearly always depressed and anxious.
I'm supposed to start Florinef. It's supposed to help me retain salt and water--isn't that what every woman wants?--so my blood pressure will stay up where it's supposed to, instead of somewhere near the floor when I take a hot shower, go outside in summer, exercise, or get stressed. The latter has been happening way too often these days. That triggers chronic fatigue syndrome, which is worse than it sounds. I suppose there's an outside chance Florinef might help the depression, too. Maye the crucial parts of my brain aren't getting the blood flow they need, because the blood just doesn't make it up there very well. I'm nervous about taking it, though,
I was too depressed t make it to the pharmacy until Monday. The pharmacy didn't have it, said they would order it and it would be ready on Wednesday. Of course they didn't have it on Wednesday. They claim they will have it today after 4 pm. Maybe I will walk up there. A little exercise is supposed to be good for people who are depressed. This has never been true for me, but I've been as sedentary as a couch potato lately and I feel tuberous, like something that lives underground, (I don't watch enough TV to be a couch potato.)
I get to start Marplan next week. I asked my pdoc to call in the prescription to avoid the we-have-to-order-it hassle. I'm terrified of Marplan, because I'm afraid it won't work. I've tried so many other drugs that I've run out of options! Don't tell me this doesn't make sense.
My son should be home soon. I want to try to pretend to be normal for him. I feel like such a pathetic excuse for a mother. I realize I'm not physically abusive or alchoholic or anything dramatically awful like that, but neither was my mother--unless you count emotional abuse. I'm distant and unhappy, and unable to help him make friends or get decent grades in school. He's supposed to be tested for ADD.
I think I have my mother's genes to thank for my depression and anxiety. (My bad feet, too.) I feel so guilty for having children of my own! I don't want to pass this on to them. Their father isn't mentally healthy, either; a double whammy.
I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work. I need the Marplan to work.
It the Marplan works, then I can ____________ (insert activity of choice). If it doesn't work, then I don't know what will happen. I suppose my pdoc will continue giving me ineffective nostrums, and I will continue to be depressed. Sooner or later I will die.
Son came home, son went over to a friend's house. Now I can return to ruminating.
I was thinking of going to a yoga class, but I would have to drive to a studio I haven't been too yet. I'd rather save it for a day when I'm feeling stronger. Sometimes yoga makes me anxious, and I've been so sluggish today that I don't want to take another Klonopin. Feel guilty for not going to yoga.
I have to stop now. Thanks for reading.