I’ve heard a story before about how it’s important for a butterfly to struggle to get out of its cocoon in order to be strong and able to fly once it’s in the real world.
So I guess I should be thankful.
Coming off antidepressants has not been a walk in the park. The first couple of days were a breeze, but then I think my system realized something was up, and the hormones that had been held in check for months decided to have a little party in my brain.
It’s not as bad as it could be, but I have felt a lot of pressure, stress, anxiety in the past week. I’ve found myself being increasingly short with Bobby. We’ve fought more this week than probably any other single week since I started on the meds. I’ve done my share of crying. And with Christmas looming, I’ve been thinking about my dad even more than usual, which doesn’t help.
But I’m not breaking. Bobby has been so supportive and has let me know (gently) that it’s OK if I need to start taking the meds again. And I was able to talk to him about where I am — to tell him that I know, that I will if I need to but that I’m not going to take an easy out. I knew coming off them would be difficult, and I’m making it OK so far. Not easy, but OK.
I do think it will get easier. My body will slowly get all its chemicals more straightened out, and I’ll be able to go through my days without the near-constant tension that comes from anxiety and depression.
In the meantime, I am reminding myself to take deep breaths and enjoy the happy moments. It does my heart good to have weekends like this past one, where Noah was about as sweet as I could imagine, where he wanted Mama to put him down for his naps and didn’t mind when I cuddled him a few extra minutes each time.
Life is good, even if it’s hard. And I think it’s getting better every day. One day at a time, and I’ll take a few steps back if I need it.