After yesterday's installment of my ongoing pity-party regarding my medication, I woke up this morning feeling really good. I do have a tendency to be impatient, and it hasn't quite been 30 days since my doctor increased my dosage of Wellbutrin. Now, does this mean I will feel this way from here on out, or even all day long? Not necessarily. It does make me feel the need cut myself a nice slice of humble pie, however. The skeptic in me whispers "It could just be that Christmas is two days away and you're looking forward to it...". I'm my own worst enemy.
I really do hope this new-found buoyancy is the result of the medication doing it's job. It sure would be nice to start the New Year on a better note. 2009 was probably the worst year of my life. Let's hope it is the worst year I ever have. I don't think I'd want to live through anything worse than that. It's kind of goofy, but I am feeling that sentimental 'clean slate' feeling people get when they are faced with the beginning of a new year. It's compounded by the fact we are beginning a new decade. My oldest son will be 18 and off to college (at least he better be) at the end of this next decade. For all intents and purposes, he will be a man. (Not in my eyes, but will he ever be anything but my baby in my eyes???) My daughter and youngest son will be in high school. There is so much life to be lived in the next 10 years, so there is a lot riding on me being stable. I don't want to miss a minute of it, or not be able to enjoy all of it because of my stupid illness. I don't want to overshadow any of the many milestones they will achieve, or eclipse them in any way at all by getting sick. Maybe that's unrealistic. I can hope. My therapist is Bipolar, and he has been episode free for 25 years. Why can't I be, too?
I am getting way ahead of myself. I just woke up feeling really good about 3 hours ago and I've already gone through all these mental gymnastics. If I wasn't inclined to thinking all the time, I'd worry I was manic. Fortunately, I haven't raced through these thoughts. If I were manic, I'd have written this in 10 minutes, and I've been at it for an hour now. Doesn't hurt that I'm watching CNN at the same time. Wait a minute...that's more of an argument for mania than not! Scratch that. LOL. Seriously though...
It comes down to this: I am desperate to have a normal life. I always have been. Before I knew anything was wrong with me, when I suffered from depression for no apparent reason on a regular basis, I knew it wasn't normal. I wanted to be like other people. I wanted to be happy with what I had, but never was (unless I was manic, of course--but that was happy to me). My desire to marry and have children was part of that desire for normalcy. That is not to diminish my love and want for my family now; I am speaking in the abstract. It was a goal, a target if you will, for me to achieve when I was a single woman. Until I was 27, unless I was manic I was looking for someone with whom I could have a solid relationship, one with potential to become permanent. After that, I had pretty much given up. I digress. I just want a normal life. Now that I have what I always wanted, I need to be able to enjoy it for all it's worth. I don't want to miss a thing and I'll be damned if I let this wretched illness rob me of it. Moreso, I refuse to let it rob my children of a happy childhood. I need to make that happen somehow and don't know how to be patient in the meantime.
I am still ahead of myself, but I want to be optimistic that these feelings are the beginning of long term relief from the depression I've been fighting. A return to stability that has long been lost. I hope, I hope, I hope.
You Know You’re Getting Old When…
8 years ago
