Let’s recap on day one.
Day one. I woke up in the morning, had a shower, just like normal. I was a bit off kilter, but I have dark days like that occasionally. I get through by just putting one foot in front of the other, and moving through my day. So I had a shower, put on my underwear, my stockings, my earrings. I did my hair and was about to put on my dress & makeup and head into work.
I don’t even remember making a conscious decision, but suddenly I was in bed, half dressed, emailing my boss that I couldn’t come in. I didn’t want to think about the consequences. I tried to sleep, and kept half drifting off in this terrifying state of sleep paralysis. I pulled myself up around lunchtime, and realised I needed a medical certificate. I made an appointment, and I went to the dr.
I sat in the waiting room and thought about what I would say. I wanted another day off, and I knew I was really stressed so I thought I would just be honest, and say I was overly
stressed and needed some time. I walked in and the dr asked me what was wrong. I looked around the room, muttered something about not knowing what to say, and that work had been hard lately. I looked at the dr and she had a look of such concern on her face. I started to stammer, I couldn’t breathe. I started to cry. The last time I cried was at a child’s funeral. She handed me a tissue and told me to talk. I told her in very vague tones about the stress, the alcohol, the Valium, the inability to sleep, the loss of control.
She says I have adjustment disorder. It is basically a type of short term depression, a reaction to certain stressors or circumstances. After the last year – the funerals, the break ups, the house moves, job changes, break ups, losing pets, cancer scares, and moving away from my support network….I shouldn’t be too surprised that I’m no bouncing back like I always do. It’s just been too much.
She prescribed me a lower dose sleeping tablet, a week off work and referred me to a psychologist.
I finished day one by going home and smoking weed until I forgot why I was upset. My housemate came home and found me in bed, and I laughed about how the dr not only gave me a week off work, but a prescription for more meds. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes and said something meaningful, which of course I don’t remember because a- I didn’t want to hear it, and b- I was completely stoned.
Day two. I made dinner, applied for some less stressful jobs, and called my mum. My mum cried down the phone with me when I told her the truth. I felt so weak, so pathetic. Then mum told me she had just been prescribed Prozac to handle her depression, which I never knew she had. I felt a little less alone.
That night I gave my drugs to my housemate. I kept the low dose sleeping pills because I can’t give it all away yet, and I drank half a carton of beer while I struggled to tell them what was going on.
I slept that night with no weed and no Valium for the first time in months.
Day three. Today. I couldn’t get out of bed. It took all my self talk to put myself in the shower, and then I ended up back in bed. I took a deep breath and made an appointment with the psychologist. Now I am lying in bed, three beers deep, no pills, no drugs, blogging until I think I can sleep. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know how committed I am to being sober, I don’t know what came first – the depression or the addiction.
I’m waiting for my head to clear. I’m waiting to feel like myself. I’m waiting to wake up and not want to get hit by a bus on the way to work. I’m waiting to laugh.
Catch you on day four.