circle queen

27 07 2010

I’ve been debating whether or not to write this.  Shaun says I should because I have to get it out somehow.  I feel more and more like the circle of people who understand what I’m going through is getting smaller and smaller.  If I were a Venn diagram, I’d be the only one in the overlap.

People who can’t squeeze infants out of their crotch gets a circle.

People with auto-immune diseases and/or fibromyalgia get a circle.

People who have adopted a sibling group from foster care get a circle.

It’s like the events of my life have conspired to leave me alone.  I hear from the kids’ therapists that the kids are worried about me.  I hear from my family that I was crazy to adopt kids with issues.  I hear from my mom that I violated God’s will by giving up on fertility treatments and having faith that I would squeeze out my own perfect little humans.

People my age are getting pregnant for the first and second times and I don’t want to be a buzz-kill.  I don’t want to open myself up to hurt and I don’t want to be outside the circle of “everything is perfect and we’re going to breastfeed and co-sleep” and blah blah blah.  My kids were fed meth and kool-aid as infants and they’re smarter and better looking than most every kid I’ve met.

Then again, I deal with issues other families will never encounter and never understand.  Yesterday LJ, after finishing his breakfast, walked back by Chickpea who was still eating and gave her a lap dance.  She looked as shocked as I felt.  I told him to go back to bed while I tried to figure out what to do.

An hour later, I got him back up and asked him to write an apology to Chickpea for what he did.  Then came the tantrums… the tantrums that have been getting more and more frequent.  He’s 10 and a few times I’ve wondered if the neighbors were going to call the police because it sounds like someone hid a grenade under his pillow.

Yesterday, after 45 minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs, he crawled into the top bunk of his bed and walled off the rails with pillows.  He shrunk down into himself and he looked like a homeless war vet that is reliving combat in his mind.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that I was watching him just to make sure he didn’t try to hang himself with his bed sheets.

At the group home he used to stay at, churches would donate tickets to Six Flags and all these other fun trips and places.  No matter he didn’t have a family and the other boys and  some of the staff used to regularly beat and rape him.  He’s mad that he doesn’t get the fun stuff here.  He’s mad that we don’t trust him to get on the internet or have his own cell phone or provide him with numerous violent video games.

We don’t get donations and Shaun’s been having to take off of work to help me through this medication change.  We’re a lower middle class family living paycheck to paycheck but we love each other and we have stability.

But it’s my fault.  If I weren’t sick, Shaun wouldn’t have to take the time off.  If I were able to go back to work we would have more money but we’d never see each other.  If I were more of a people person and not so fucking needy, life would be easier on all of us.  If I could keep my mouth shut, we may be able to find a church home.

I’m terrified of being alone.  I’m terrified of hospitals and I hate specialists.  I think everyone thinks I’m pretty much crazy and that I exaggerate everything.  How can I look like I’m doing so well and things be this bad?  My life exists of pills, crying, and trying not to throw up.

Where is my sense of humor?  Why are some topics suddenly taboo in my mind?  Why do the longer I live the less I believe in God but believe more in the fact that things happen the way they are meant to happen?  Why can’t I get the bad things out of my head?  Why do I feel like I won’t live to see 50?


keep it down in there

12 07 2010

My gastro-intestinal system is very emo right now.  I’ve spent the last few nights dreaming that I was pregnant and doing a c-section on myself.  That would be kind of difficult being I lack a uterus and all but this kind of cramping is TERRIBLE.  It’s like my intestines decided that since I haven’t had a period in a year that they’d send me some cramps and nausea for good time’s sake.  It even joined up with my nervous system to throw in barrels of cold sweats, arrhythmia, and blue lips.  There’s a party in my tummy and the police just broke it up for being too wild.

I couldn’t keep down anything at all.  Not even the nausea meds so off to the doctor I went for the second time this week.  So what do you do for throwing up for so long your body has gone into SNRI withdrawal?  A big shot of nausea meds in the ass, a dissolvable pill and a firm order to keep down the effexor.  Today is a bit better but I still feel as if I’m buried under a pile of rusty screen doors.

The overwhelming depression seems to be easier today.  I just feel so emotionless – so flat.  I’ve been working on this blog post for 5 days now because by the time I’ve written something, I just don’t see the point in publishing it.

I did learn something this weekend while looking up how to fix this withdrawal.  The pharm companies call it “discontinuation syndrome” instead of “you’re so addicted your body is FUCKED for 10 days.”  They say that because your brain doesn’t crave the medicine like it would for coming off of a narcotic that it’s not really an addiction.  It’s a dependency.  The pharm companies also neglected to say that the half-life of effexor is between 5 and 10 hours so missing even a single dose will send your body into withdrawal.

As long as I’ve been on this med at such a high dose, when I switched to a different med my body shut down.  Even though the meds didn’t work for me any longer the “discontinuation syndrome” tried to kill me.  So now I’m on a plan to start up the new meds while taking the old meds at the same time, then once I’m on the full dose of savella, I’ll start weaning off the effexor titty.

I just want to function.  I want to do something productive.  I want my children to remember more about me than that I’m sick a lot.  I’ll be 30 in 6 months and I feel like I’ve reached and passed the apex of my life.  The depression is chemical too so I’m trying not to put too much weight on how I’m feeling.

All I can do is wait on this new med regimen to work and then go from there.  I’m also mega dosing on B and D vitamins because SSRIs and SNRIs leach those vitamins from your body and as long as I’ve been barfing, I know my body is craving nutrients.

Today, I’ll make it through today.  Tomorrow, I’ll make it through that too.