Monday, August 18, 2008

Day 7 on Lexapro.

4:21pm

Today did not get off to a great start. I woke up at 4am and was totally fooled into thinking I would be able to get back to sleep. And I did…but it took 3 hours. In the meantime, I laid in bed with the covers pulled over my eyes and tried to ignore the bad thoughts that kept creeping into my mind. At the same time, my heart felt like it was being continually gripped in a vice. And it hurt…and I couldn’t breathe…and the thoughts that invaded my brain were more than I could bear.

And this morning, 7 days in, I thought for the first time that maybe I would end up in the hospital after all. Because I couldn’t take the physical and mental avalanche of heartache and strain that had melded together and rolled me further down the hill than I had intended to go.

I was so sad. My body hurt so much. I did not have the necessary energy to bat away the thoughts that crept in and left me unable to function.

The worst thing is, the bad thoughts are all based in truth. They just pick up speed after a while and twist into unimaginable monsters that prey on the me that is lying there, sick and suffering. Yes. They are all based in truth. That is what makes them so especially sad. I should have known I was getting sick again. I should have seen how sensitive I was becoming. I should have taken that as a sign to lock the doors and batten the damn hatches down.

But I just didn’t see it coming. And as a result, I was on my knees again at 8 o’clock this morning…with my fingers down my throat…trying to rid myself of the awful stomachache that had materialized in my belly. And though hardly anything came up, it made me feel better again.

Then I took my Lexapro.

And prayed.

Then I went to work. Of course I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to leave the house. And I looked horrible…like an animated version of my own bad passport photo walking around.

Greasy ponytail, unkempt eyebrows, no makeup.

I’m gonna say I don’t think I smelled too pretty either. Showering is not easy when you’re in a condition like this.

But I went. And I stayed all five hours. And by the time I left, I felt almost human. I felt like the insides of me were filling up again…like they weren’t lying naked and vulnerable on the ground waiting to be stomped on by anyone who walked by anymore.

And this afternoon, 7 days in, I thought for the first time that maybe everything was going to be okay. That maybe I wouldn’t feel horrible for the rest of my life. And even when I came home and had another panic attack…and had to take a nap…and had to avoid all television except the Animal House documentary and some innocuous show spotlighting America’s volcanoes…I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Because for a period of time, I had felt okay.

It wasn’t a long time, but it didn’t matter.

Today, it was long enough for me.