I woke up not so much depressed as anxious, I'm sure a reaction to the various things I've been doing with meds the past couple of days. So I took klonopin. First I took a quarter of a milligram, but that isn't quite doing it, so now I have taken a second quarter. I don't like taking it- but at least I console myself with the thought that these are tiny dosages. One doctor (a very bad doctor) had me on 10mg a day! But I was kind of manic at the time.
I have to go in to work to do paperwork today. A lot of it. And I have to do laundry. And grocery shopping. And I have to go for a walk or to the gym. I really need to exercise, I have been backsliding on that. Ever since I hurt my back with my personal trainer a couple of weeks ago, I haven't exercised. But it is much better, so I have to get back to exercising- but I'm not going back to a personal trainer for a while.
I'm not as depressed as yesterday. This does not mean that things are good, only not so bad. And maybe I can hang on for a little while longer.
I have a vacation coming up in May. I can't wait. I'm going to go backpacking for a few days. And I want to go to visit my brother and my niece for a couple of days. There is nothing more life-affirming than a baby!
And yet, the idea of motherhood is one of the things that this illness took from me. How could I, this crazy person on all of these meds, have a baby? I never even thought it was an option. This didn't bother me until I started doing "better," and I started thinking what if... What if I had gotten my act together 10 years sooner. What if I had been giver fewer meds. What if.
But 45 is too old to have a baby, at least for me! And I wouldn't do it without a husband, given all the "issues" that I do have, and no husband- so no baby. Oh, well, I worry about overpopulation anyway. This is doing my part.