As you may remember Doc put me on Prozac a year ago last May. Things were great for a while then leveled off to OK, and eventually settled in the land of apathy. That's where they stayed for months so I began weaning myself off the Prozac. I've been off of it for about 4 months now....and things are not pretty.
At first, there was no change. I was the same off the meds as on. Kind of tired (I'm a mom of 4, I expect tired). Kind of cranky every now & then (I'm a mom of 4, I expect cranky). Kind of apathetic.
But lately things seem to be taking a turn for the worse. Fourth grade make-up work should not reduce one to tears and skin crawling tense-ness...especially when one is not in fourth grade. The constant feeling of fingernails on a chalk board I've been living with for the past month is not really pleasant.
After B.B. was born I'm pretty sure I suffered from a slight case of PPD. Since I was still functioning, I didn't think much of it. If you suffer from depression you sleep all the time, right? You quit picking up after your kids, right? You let everything around you fall into total decline while you nap or watch hours of mind numbing television, right? So the act of washing dishes and cooking mean I'm not depressed, right?
When do you give in and say "I need help"? When you become suicidal? I'm not there. I'm no where near there. When you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown? Don't think I'm quite there either. When you cease to function as a parent/member of society? I'm not there.
I'm just....nowhere. Yup. That about sums it up. I'm pretty well Meh all the time. Does that make sense? There is no joie de'vivre. No lust for life. There is just Blah. Piles & piles of blah. Loads & loads of Pbth. Mountains of ugh.
What to do........