Category: Bookish Life

(Un)balanced

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In retrospect, the last 12 months have been a pretty intense emotional rollercoaster. And tonight, I’m finally starting to feel some consistent peace (that is accompanying the uptick of joy I have found in the past few months).

In the summer of 2021, I (accidentally) quit my anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication. (My daily routine goes out the window when summer starts and somehow I kept missing the pills I was supposed to take every day…my allergies also suffered.) When I realized I was feeling sick because I had essentially cold turkeyed myself off a prescription med, I called to set up an appointment with my doctor, ready to talk about the fact that I didn’t think the pill I was on was actually working well enough anyway.

Medication for feelings is HARD you guys. You don’t know what will work unless you try it, and to try it, you have to give it time to settle in, and then also to…settle out? before you can try something new.

When we went back to the drawing board (because my doctor and I agreed that I would benefit from SOME kind of meds), he asked me “if you had to pick one or the other, depression or anxiety, which one do you feel is the most pressing?”, and I didn’t hesitate before answering “ANXIETY 10000%”.

So we decided to try a daily pill for generalized anxiety. I knew that a lot of my issues came from worst case scenario planning, and feeling like everyone was mad at me all the time, and if that’s not what anxiety is…well, I mean, that is what it is.

Long story longer, the new medicine worked wonders. (Buspirone, if you’re curious.) It helped my brain insert logic into my overly dramatic and emotional thought process, and helped me practice the coping mechanisms my therapist taught me authentically. (Yep, even with appropriate medication, I still need therapy, too. And not because something is inherently WRONG with me, but because it is incredibly helpful to have an impartial audience who can offer problem solving techniques specific to my brand of neuroses.) I felt so much better, AND I started being able to set boundaries to protect my feelings.

I’ve read so many articles (read: instagram posts and tiktok videos…don’t judge me…or do! I don’t worry about it so much anymore!) about how women who learn to set boundaries as adults are often viewed as aggressive or selfish, and that is 100% some of the feedback I received as I started to make space for myself to be happier. Because my medication helped move me out of the “everyone has to like me or I’m a failure at life” mindset, I decided I was okay with that perception. I stuck to it, had brave conversations, and felt so damn proud of myself when it was done.

Step 2 (or realistically, step…587? Ish? There’s so many steps, you guys, and it’s such a process to figure it all out, but damn if it isn’t worth it, I don’t know what is): hearing from several women of a similar age who had been diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed medication to address it. Then I found out that a friend who was also on the same anti-anxiety med as me was also prescribed Adderall. I took the information to my doctor and said I felt like I often experienced the symptoms I’ve heard described as how ADHD presents in women. (Easily distracted, quick to anger, can’t tell a straight story, can’t finish one task at a time because there are 17 other tasks that get noticed in between, etc.) He told me Adderall can be helpful for anyone in a cup of coffee kind of way, but if I *needed* it, I’d know after trying it. We agreed that I’d try the lowest dose and see how it went.

You guys. Buspirone was so helpful, but ADHD medication was life changing. Instead of starting a task and having to pause 11 times to get something I need to complete said task, I’m able to look at what I need to do and get all the things I need ready before I start. I am still a “needs a checklist” person, but now I’m capable of actually prioritizing the things on the list (whereas before I struggled to figure out which thing mattered most, or which would make sense to accomplish first).

AND it helped EVEN MORE with my anxiety. The Buspirone allowed me to set boundaries and to be okay with some people not loving me. Adderall has helped me manage high stress situations (crowds of people, presentations, traveling, etc.), not because it has made my worries go away, but because I feel like I’m properly prepared if things go awry. I’m able to more logically understand that the worst case scenario probably won’t happen, and I’m also able to feel confident in the way I’ve prepared myself for if it does.

If you’ve made it this far…woof. This was long, and honestly, it was cathartic for me to put into words. The point of me sharing it, however, is to encourage anyone in the process of finding their correct medication to not give up. I know meds aren’t for everyone, and maybe there are holistic things that would work for me the same way these prescriptions do. To each their own. What is working for ME is the combination of appropriate medication, therapy, and support from my family and friends.

If you’re struggling to find the things that give help you find balance, peace, and joy? Know that the thing is out there. Maybe it’s clean eating, or acupuncture, or natural vitamins and supplements. Maybe it’s medications, or therapy, or, I don’t know…quitting your job and moving to Alaska. (I still REALLY want to live in Alaska…or at least visit.) Maybe it’s all of those things combined, or maybe it’s a combination of stuff I haven’t even mentioned.

The point is, there IS something for you, and it might (probably does) suck, trying to find the “just right” thing. But I’ll tell you what: at 36, I have never been more at peace, more satisfied, or more confident in who I am as a person. I finally feel like I’m being my authentic self (with the caveat that sometimes my authentic self changes based on my current interests….I’m a 4 enneagram, so I’m pretty sure that’s normal for me).

I’ve been wanting to share my journey with meds for a while, and kept…not? Not finding the right time or the right words to make it feel…authentic?

After two full days of teacher work at school, including Open House where I got to see so many kiddos who were so happy to see me, I decided tonight was the night. And then, after changing my evening plans because I felt like Eloise needed someone to be home (we’ve been so damn busy and not necessarily present in August…and also she is big enough to rip down corn stalks and gorge herself on feeder corn and got REAL FAT, REAL FAST and has as a result been relegated to her harness and the lead…and it has all led to her being grumpy and aggressive) I was able to find so much peace in my home tonight.

This summer, because I’ve found a balance, I was able to donate 9 boxes of books to a very worthy cause. On Tuesday, I spent 6 hours organizing the remaining books aesthetically, and I actually went through piles of nonsense that haven’t been touched in over 11 years. And tonight, I was able to enjoy the peace in my home library, with my suddenly much more content pig (because yeah, she just needed us to be near her to be happier). And now here we are. I’ve written a billion word essay, I hope it helps someone, I know it’s helped me.

Cheers to knowing the hard work is worth it. Cheers to my friends who stuck by me while I attempted to manage these major shifts in emotions and thoughts. Cheers to Kyle, who has taken the brunt of my emotional outbursts as I have tried to navigate all of this. Thank you to all of you who loved me before and love me still. Thank you, everyone, for the grace as I continue to grow.

I could ask a bunch of people to read this before I put it online, but where’s the fun in that?

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She wasn’t sure when it started. More than 6 months ago, less than a year, it’s impossible to say. She can’t even describe for sure what it was that started. It was small, to begin with, but it’s grown more frequent and more alarming as the weeks and months have passed.

In the beginning, it was just snatches of something out of the corner of her eye. Little things, that she’d turn her head toward, expecting to see a curtain blowing or a bug crawling, and there was never anything there. She remembers not thinking about it much at all, except that it seemed to be happening more often as time passed.

As it continued, it seemed to somehow grow larger. Which seems impossible because what is “it” and if something is nothing, how can it possibly be any bigger?

But then it was happening every day, sometimes multiple times. Something moved in her peripheral, not even the corner of her eye, it felt like it was taking up her whole side view, but when she turned, nothing was there. No bugs. No blowing curtains. No meandering cats or scurrying mice. No people.

She stopped turning her head, or would willfully look in the other direction. The movements kept happening. She ignored. She chalked it up to stress, or perhaps just straight up going crazy. She figured as long as she didn’t attempt to identify it or give it a name, as long as she kept it to herself—she’d be fine. She wasn’t actually, crazy. She didn’t think ghosts were following her around or anything. There were no phantoms or stalkers creeping behind her everywhere she went. That would be ridiculous.

And then the sounds began. Quiet ones. It took her a long time to understand that they were somehow related to the missed visions she kept having. She had spent so long forcing herself to ignore the fleeting movements, that she almost forgot they were there. Almost didn’t realize that they were now accompanied by…sounds. A whisper. A shuffle. A creak. All easily attributed to the old apartment she lived in, or the rickety car she drove, or the drafty office she spent her days in.

But her willful ignorance was starting to slip. The flashes of movement were coming more frequently, and these days the sounds came, too. They weren’t coming from the same places: sometimes there was a flash to the right and she’d hear a squeak to her left. Sometimes the sound came first, a mysterious clunk from behind her, and when she turned, something would seem to be scooting just out of her vision in the other direction.

She stopped ignoring. She tried to turn her head faster, to catch whatever it was. She tried to anticipate when it happened. She was almost always alone. Occasionally a co-worker was nearby at the office, or she was driving her sister to the grocery store, or every now and then, a friend stopped by for some coffee on a Saturday. Sometimes those people were around when the thing happened. She would glance in the direction of the movement, glance back at her company. They didn’t appear to have noticed anything. So she continued to keep it to herself.

She was losing sleep. That feeling that happens sometimes, just before a person drifts off, and they feel like they’re falling? That was happening on a regular basis, except that instead of falling, she felt as though someone, something, was standing directly next to her. Her eyes would leap open, and she’d shoot up in bed. There was nothing. No movement, no sound. Just the feeling.

She tried to outsmart it. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, willing it to come closer so she could catch it off-guard. She acted nonchalant, as though she wasn’t constantly anticipating an incident. But, it knew. It knew when she was waiting for it, and it never came then. Only when she let her guard down. Only when she forgot, for just a moment, that there was a thing at all.

She started missing work. She was staying up all night, avoiding the thing, only to nod off just before dawn. She’d wake up and have missed half a day of work, with several missed calls on her phone. She’d rush in, unshowered, unkempt, eyes wide and bloodshot, heart pounding.

Her boss called her in and asked what was wrong. She didn’t dare tell him. She knew he’d think she was crazy. She had just overslept a few times, that’s all. Her sister’s been sick, she’s been under some stress, big projects at work. She rambled off whatever excuses she could come up with. Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she forced her gaze to stay straight. Her boss sent her home, told her she clearly needed to take some time to take care of herself. No, he wasn’t firing her, just encouraging her to take some days off.

Her friends don’t stop by for coffee on Saturdays. She hasn’t been to work. Her phone rings, but she doesn’t dare answer. What if she misses her chance? Her sister has started to call a local taxi service to take her for her doctors appointments and grocery trips.

These days, she mostly sits upright in a chair in the middle of her dining room. There aren’t any windows here, no cupboards for something to be hiding in. She’s pushed the table onto its side so that nothing can hide beneath it. She sits in a corner of the room with her back against the wall, daring it to happen, waiting for the movement, the sounds, the inevitable assault.

That’s where they find her. Her sister didn’t let too much time pass before she got worried and angry and called someone who could do something about it. She hears them knocking, but she can’t tell if it’s real. She can’t remember the last time she ate something, or the last time she spoke out loud, or the last time she took a shower or brushed her hair. The knocking becomes more aggressive, and she hears the front door of her apartment splinter as the door comes crashing in.

She doesn’t fight them, but she doesn’t speak to them either. She hasn’t seen the thing happen in a long time, but she knows it’s just waiting for her to think that it’s gone. A female officer kneels in front of her and speaks in soothing tones, but it’s hard to pay attention. Because that’s when it happens again. Small, this time, like in the beginning. Just a hint of something off to her right, and when she turns, there’s nothing there.

The female officer and her partner help her gently to her feet. She stumbles a little, weak, tired, defeated. She lets herself be pulled out of the windowless room, glancing behind her a few times, wondering if maybe now she’ll catch it, if now will be the time when someone else sees it, too. There’s nothing there, though.

There’s never been anything there.