Hi all. Been a little while since I last updated.
Things were going good, great in fact. My mood has levelled out and I hadn’t had anxiety in weeks. I was doing so much more with Reece and feeling so much more connected.
Then Tuesday came.
And I crashed. Nose dived straight into a concrete platform.
I couldn’t stop crying again. Anxiety spiked and I ended up needing an Ativan after not needing any for weeks.
I don’t know what caused it, it may have been a variety of factors.
- Reece started sleeping really bad on the Saturday night, he was up very often during the night and just unsettled, so I didn’t have a good sleep for 4 nights
- We had SO much going on the weekend prior, lots of events and things for the kids
- We were trying to finish building a toy box that just wasn’t working out. We ended up hiring someone to fix it, a qualified professional, and he couldn’t even figure out what we were doing wrong! He couldn’t get it going, so $375 later we still had two unfinished toy boxes that the kids won’t be getting for Christmas now
- I had been anxious about seeing my psychologist the following day because the session we had the week prior really dug up some shit that I didn’t even know was a problem
- My mum got sick and wasn’t able to do as much
So I don’t know what it was. Maybe a factor of everything. All I know is that now things are really hard again. I am riddled with anxiety but not wanting to take Ativan because I shouldn’t need to take the fucking Ativan to function.
My psychiatrist and psychologist are on holidays for 2 weeks for the Christmas and new year period so I’m on my own. The psychiatrist did suggest that anxiety usually needs a higher dose of lexapro, so I’m thinking of increasing my dose on Boxing Day. Slowly, only 2.5mg at a time. I’m going to go up to 12.5mg for 7 days then 15mg for another 7. Then I’m going to try to get an appointment with the psychiatrist. She had said in the past that I may need to go up to 20mg of the lexapro, so if that has to happen then I guess that’s what needs to happen.
I’m just so over all of this. I’m just so tired. Tired of having to get through the day instead of enjoying it and enjoying my kids. I hate not feeling attached to Reece. Scarlett is the light of my life and I detest that sometimes I could either take or leave Reece. I just feel like that makes me a horrible mum for even thinking that.
Everything is a fight. Getting through the day is a fight. Battling the anxiety is a fight. Shutting off my brain is a fight. Keeping the tears at bay is a fight. Showering is a fight. Smiling is a fight. Doing things for the kids is a fight. Eating is a fight.
And it’s not that I’m suicidal, it’s just that… well, sometimes I think that maybe I’m done fighting.
This shit is hard, so much harder then I ever imagined.