No Crashing.

It was a weird week. 

So I took a leap.

It took a lot to finally do it.

I saw a doctor April 10.

Because. I keep hallucinating, and hearing shit. Violent things, of me hurting my child, hearing myself screaming, hearing my mother screaming.

Anxiety problems, major ups, super horrible downer times.

Ive always seen weird shit, and usually, it was whatever man. It got worse after I had my child. 

 It started in response to stress, nerves and overwhelming hormones and what not that comes from being a new mother, having an unexpected C Section and having not too much in familial support in those first few weeks. Despite what some may think, No. I am not an effortless wall of good sense and calm. 

The anxiety and up/down I've had for years, but was never sure how to address it. It's gotten worse since I had the kiddo. My mother used drugs to remedy this for herself, to no avail.

Then my sister beat my kid at four months. It got super intense, so fast, and super bad. So I went to the doctor.

I fear medications. I was perscribed something called Effexor back when I worked at Blizz. It was horrible. I was seeing things while working, talking to people. I would be drawn to tears if you looked at me cross eyed, I feared crossing people. I feared losing my job because I had to pump in the office.

So I took this drug. Unaware of the addictiveness, and the horrific withdrawel effects one endures when you run out, not realizing what you're taking.

I weaned myself off of it. Then dad went to hospital. The fucking lay offs happened.

I became, in short time, a wreck. I was suddenly a stay at home mother, having been let go from a position I thought was pretty secure, the future uncertain. Been stuck in that dark hole off and on since.

Then we left California. Things have not been "better". I like to tell people, "things are ok." or, "We hold a semblance of stability."

Because no. things are not exactly, "Better".

I keep a lot of my darker thoughts off facebook, preferring to ramble in a blog I share with not many. I dont update often, just when the mood or time allows.

We were one month away from losing our apartment, work was that hard to find for the husband.

We budget everything.  I give up a lot so my kiddo can be happy.  I wonder where my marriage is going frequently. 

Some times good, others bad.

The weather is dreary, I miss the sun. I miss the beaches. This was my first winter here, and at times, I fucking hated it. Admittedly, I like rain, but the cold. Sometimes, I cried in the car, because crying in front of the kid and husband made ti worse. 

 I work 430am to 11am, see my husband for 10 minutes a day during the week, who leaves for work with a passing kiss and a fleeting look of sadness, longing, as I mind our daughter for the evenings. 

 I miss my friends, my family.

I work for a company I had hoped to avoid, but am grateful for a job. I don't know how, as my husband puts it, to "treat myself" anymore. 

My husband and I rarely touch beyond a passing hug, and have gone months without sex at times, which at times, is all I want. Just to feel his touch again; that warmth his fingers give as they run along my body. Instead we are too tired, too bitchy, too focused on the next bill, the next paycheck.

The depressive tendencies are worse now than they have been for a while. The hallucinations jumping out at work, creating horrible customer relations.

I recently got health insurance.

I'd fought against the notion of medicating myself. I am not a pot smoker by habit, what with a child - I'd like to be clear headed should she need me - and I am wary of pills.

Mother overdosed on them, and the effexor was a harsh thing to deal with. 

I take herbs, I drink tea every night, I try to make everything a little calming ritual. I meditate where I can, I play with my daughter, whos laughter is soothing.

It's getting worse.

I ended up finally going to the doctor, my child in tow.

THis man looked confused. I didn't look ill, but when I said, "I see violent visions of myself hurting my child" he looked horrified. After three hours of waiting, he returned, and said he's putting me on a medication. A small dose - he's wary as I am of medications, and heard my dislike for the stuff.  Can I please get to a therapist? I might benefit from this.

I assent. I am shaken. He turns to my husband, whom has come to pick us up. "Now - do you ever feel your daughter is in danger from your wife? do you suspect abuse?"

I could have died. I understood WHY it was asked.. but so nonchalant. I was mortified.

I went home, and I cried. I had to call my manager and get my schedule reworked to make the appointment this doctor has requested I make with him.

Work this week was hard.

Harder still is telling the people I work with, my supervisors, "Hey. I have to go on a medication, I might be off a little." to see their curious, questioning expressions, to explain, "I'm seeing shit, I hear things." Why do you tell them? because your managerial sorts ought to know, so as to avoid possible reprimands for unexplainable actions on my own part.  It's hard not to feel liek they're going to think your stranger than normal - they already think "Oh Ness, you're weird" already. Add in the supposed stigma of being on "pills!", yeah. Feels dandy.

Agony. This is the kind of thing I keep to myself.

 and I did, I kept it all to myself.  I speak to very, very few people about this kind of thing.

But I had to do something.

So I started the medication on Friday. We'll see what happens.

I am still employed, my child healthy. My husband is working, we are "ok". He is supportive, loving and always there. 

The hardest part of this week, is telling myself, "you arent "broken", this isn't weakness. you're trying to remedy things, this is not a defeat."

As a friend of mine said, and I hold it close, "No crashing."

I'll keep telling myself that.