730 odd days…

It’s been 2 years/ish since my melting down weekend in Sydney.

2 years since I was so exhausted that I finally couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore.

2 years since I realised how unhappy I really was.

I had a chat to my beautiful friend who witnessed my initial crashing down of self and all the drama and consequences that came with that on the weekend.

She asked “what’s changed?”

Obviously the meds have smoothed out the rush edges and stopped my small little sail boat from capsizing in crazy waves.

But I’ve also learnt along the way though that you can capsize and drown in the shallowest of waters if you’re not vigilant.

Another friend asked recently about side effects of long term use of antidepressants and I replied that I didn’t care and that it had to be better than the short term effects without them.

2 years ago I had my mum living half an hour away and I would see her 3-4 times a week. My husband wasn’t traveling as much as he is now and I was working 3 days a week as apprised to the 4 days I do now.

It’s gotten worse. The structure of my circumstances have gotten worse.

There is less support around me and less of my time to go around.

The things I was supposed to have fixed have become more damaged or are no longer even salvageable.

The days are longer, the hours are shorter and the kids have attitudes that don’t extend to kindness for a mum in need.

So I’m sticking with my low dose meds until the pendulum swings me back up on to my feet and I can stop the one step forward, two steps backwards tango that I’ve been dancing.

I think my medication dulls some of my sparkle but also saves me from some of the glittery mess that’s left behind when I would catch my breath and realize that the fall was too quick.

You might think I’m speaking in rhymes and riddles. Spewing forth words of no logic or meaning.

Well you’re right of course but I’ll blame that on the magic meds too. xxoo

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