Manic musings

December 1st:
 
Sometimes writing is *exactly* the medicine I need to get out of the narrow straits of depression. Everything got so much better since I wrote!!

It starts with the complete relief of getting it *out*. Not just out, though, but out in the specific way I need it. I need to know that people will read it. They (you) are listening. That, for me, begins the healing.

Then, friends and family who are reading sometimes reach out and call. *That* is an amazing thing. Honestly, how did people in "the olden days" communicate with each other on any regular basis? Do you know how blessed we are?! I do. Actually I am not such a chat-on-the-phone person. No time, the kids need me. No patience for chit-chat. But there are those calls, every now & then, that can change everything.

This one went like this:
My friend said "how about take a half hour once (or twice) a week to write, and a half hour once (or twice) a week to exercise, and then it's not so big. You don't have to do everything every day". Then later in the conversation "maybe you could wake up early with the kids once a week instead of always, it doesn't have to be all or nothing".

I can do that. That is the plan now. (I hope. Truth is that ever since I had NF, there have been no regular days. No regularity at all in my life. Four years. Saying "that is the plan now" is scary.)

I woke up this morning with Dovie, I surprised him. I made a difficult decision to force myself out of bed. I got to sleep at midnight last night, and six-and-a-half hours for me isn't nearly enough, but I did it. He was happy to see his fleece-robe-and-slippered ima coming down the stairs. He gave me a big hug. Oh my goodness that child is so special. The lovin' was flowin'.

I made him a thick, manly sandwich for school and sent him on his way with a blessing from me, ...even though... he goes out in the COLD with no JACKET! Makes me crazy. He's like his Dad- doesn't feel the cold.

Then Robert woke, and the other three children came stumbling down the stairs after.

I braided Shifra's hair. It's something we both love, and which we almost never get the luxury to do, because I am not up in the mornings. It is one of the special intimacies we share as mommy-daughter.

December 3rd, Saturday evening, after Shabbat:
Well, the day went on, and I never rested.
I went shopping with Shifra, then back home and I made the challot and pizza for Thursday dinner. It has actually been a long time since I did all the [preparing/baking] steps of challot and pizza myself; usually Robert does some because I am too wiped out, or we order pizza and buy challot.
I did it all and I was buzzin' around. Remember I was  up at 6:30? Did the morning? Went out shopping with Shifra? Oh, I did laundry, too, of course. Then, I went out to a concert in the evening.

My friends and family on facebook thought I shouldn't go to the concert. I wrote that I was planning on going after this busy day I had, and one friend said said "No!!!! Don't go to the concert.... stay home - rest, so you don't burn yourself out. That way, you can maybe get up tomorrow morning again! Your battery is very very precious..."

Well, that friend was theoretically right. But I went. I actually only saw the note after the concert. Not sure how it would or would not have effected me. 
This is what I wrote in the facebook conversation afterward: "I went to the concert, I really felt good, and Shifra also wanted to go. It was a low-scale thing in a private home, very enjoyable for both of us. I am awake now, 11:35, after just cleaning the kitchen (R dropped onto the couch exhausted). I am noticing that I have a manic thing to try to understand and straighten out. Either I sleep all the time and depression is at the steering wheel, or  can't sleep and I do a million things. Today I have been up since 6:30, and haven't napped. I am going to talk to my doctor about it, but I do *NOT* want to tweak any drugs. I think I can definitely call this manic behavior at the steering wheel, you know?"

I continue to look at the past few days as quite manic.

Friday morning I woke in a haze of unpleasant dreams. The dreams in the early morning were borderline nightmares; dreams I would definitely call PTSD dreams. I did have to get up to go to Dr Z, and I was able to disobey my dream which was trying to convince "awake Sarah" of much worse things. 

I did a ZILLION things Friday. By the time I lit candles for Shabbat, I completely fell into my bed. I could have stayed there all night, but Shifra encouraged me to get up and come to Kiddush.

Today, Shabbat, was full of walking to & from shul and hosting a bunch of people. Also, I didn't rest at all today until now, night time.

I still have a sort of manic feeling.

Bottom line is that I do see an instability emotionally recently that I didn't have before I went down to low-dose Lamictal. The Lamictal was originally for the PTSD as a mood stabilizer. Maybe I still need a higher dose? And if so, is it OK to take? This whole thing of going off was because I am on a high dose of Lyrica, but if it's not so good for me to be off the Lamictal, then...?

I will talk to the psychiatrist about it. I just don't like her so much. I only see her three times a year or so. I don't much like her, and and I don't want to test any other new drugs. But it's time to report back to her; it's been-what, about three months since this whole Lamictal drama started?


Shame of it is that I finally feel we got the dosages and timing right for the pain. It is now at a manageable low.
It's either the mind drugs or the body drugs. Synchronicity has yet to happen. 


(appointment with GP tomorrow-- I haven't checked in with her in months. I also need a throat culture-- sore throat now for a really long time-- 3 weeks? Then on Thursday I have my bi-yearly MRI. That is a big deal. We get to see what is happening in the joint after masking all this pain. I take the results to a specialist that Prof Meller wants me to see again-- the one who assisted in my PVNS surgery. Should make more interesting blog updates! ;-)