The Beginning

Yesterday morning, before going to bed, J suggested I call and make an appointment with my doctor. I've been trying to summon the courage to call somebody, anybody, for a while. I tried calling the only psychiatrists office in our town, but they are booked into July. I can't wait that long. So I called my primary doctor instead. He knows me.

I got an appointment for the afternoon. J went with me, but I asked him to wait in the waiting room. When the doctor walked in, he spoke to me in the most caring voice. He sat down and listened. And I just cried. I told him I just wasn't doing well, I am not coping. I have been fine for so long, but I am not any more. I told him I was giving in and going back to meds, and probably therapy. He agreed that both would be good, but we should start the meds as soon as possible to get me stabilized.

He gave me samples of Cymbalta and an appointment in 2 weeks. I felt so much relief because I can see the possibility of happiness.

I took the first pill at 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon. Within 2 hours, I felt slightly nauseated and a little dizzy. I was extremely sleepy, though, from missing my normal sleep time.

I came home and crawled into bed. I couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't stop moving. When I finally fell asleep, I couldn't stay asleep. Finally I got up after just a few hours. I sat at my laptop, unable to focus, unable to be still, the room seemed to be spinning. I felt like I was tweaking.

We went for a walk to burn off the energy. I came back so extremely exhausted. For dinner, I had to fight the gag reflex that tends to come with these meds. Never vomiting, just always feeling like I will.

I finally got more sleep last night. I feel somewhat disconnected, and still unable to stay completely still. I don't know about work the next couple of days. We will see. Right now I am just taking this as it comes. I will ride it out and hope for the best.

Maybe meds really can bring happiness.