Danger Will Robinson

Nothing knocks you out of depression like a panic attack. My heart pumps faster, my thoughts race – everything that was slow about me begins to move at full speed. While I abhor the idea of depending on my rapid cycling to pull me through, it may have saved my ass this time. I don’t think I could have made it through the rest of the week without that bolt of anxiety-ridden lightning.

My doctor called. He put me back on one of my meds; we were trying to wean me off the major ones so my husband and I could start a family. Between the stress at work, unstable finances and other variables that affect my stability, children don’t seem to be in the cards in the near future. As much as me and my husband want them, we’re going to have to wait until we can afford for me to either work part-time or I can set my own full time hours without fear of losing my job (in other words, private practice).

Time to put my theory to the test. Shower and take the rest of my meds. And some self-care something. I’m not trying to push myself this week: a sure-fire way to screw myself over before Tuesday afternoon.


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