This is my truth. Today was not a good day for me, I spent the day broken. Oddly enough I felt clear headed and focused when I woke up this morning. This is a very rare thing these days. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten the Boy his breakfast and made my cup of coffee that I realised what was different. Last night I failed to take one of the two tablets I’m supposed to take in the evening. I got it out of the packet and set it down on my desktop with a glass of water, but then moved some papers around and misplaced it.
What to do? Skipping my meds really isn’t a good option for a couple reasons. First, they seem to be helping my mood a bit. I still have bad days. I still have days when it’s all I can do to get up and get the boy to school, but there are fewer of them than there were when I began this treatment. Second, I’m taking part in a clinical trial being run by some people at Oxford and for some reason the thought of failing to give them reliable data about how the selection of meds I’m on is affecting me matters.
I chose to take part in the clinical trial because the meds I had been one had either never really worked, or they had stopped working for me. So, initially I dealt with the exhaustion these tablets brought by reassuring myself that the exhaustion is a side-effect that should dwindle with time because I wanted to believe it would. And thankfully, when I was on smaller doses it did vanish about a week after each step up. However, that is no longer the case.
I’ve been on the same dosage for months now and it’s still knocking me out. I took last night’s tablet at 9 am this morning and it broke me. Within 30 to 45 minutes of taking it, it was all I could do to make it the stairs back to bed. I asked Hubby to attempt to wake me in about 45 minutes and he tried, but the exhaustion was too great. I could barely sit up, so I went back to sleep. It was about 3 in the afternoon when I was finally able to get out of bed and stand without feeling like my legs were going to collapse underneath me.
All my plans for the day were ruined, broken. The Boy tries to understand, but I worry about the affect my permanent exhaustion is having on him and on our relationship. I tried to play with him and spend time with him today, but it becomes so hard on days like today. I am forced to ponder whether it’s better for him to have a mother who is emotionally exhausted from forcing herself to wear a mask of happiness or whether it’s better that I can feel happy sometimes, but am physically exhausted often. If it were you, what would you choose?