I picked 25 minutes because I’m pretty darn tired, but I want to write something, and twenty five minutes from now seems like a good time to go to bed. I actually have a post or two in mind, and one draft actually started, but they’re all on topics I’d like to be able to devote some actual brain power to. So, not working on them now.

I worked on soccer ball pjs for the little guy today. Finished the pants a few days ago, because he needs pj pants that aren’t too small, and since I had the shirt cut out and pinned I figured I may as well finish it before cutting the pieces for the next pair of pants. That’s part of why I feel so tired now; the sewing machine always makes my eyes tired. It’s great, all my hobbies involve close eye-work and make me sleepy. Except running, that’s more distance, but I haven’t been running in months. THE POINT IS, though, that I DID work on pjs tonight. All I have to do is hem the bottom and attach the collar and it’ll be done. So, you know, that’s good.

I have three projects that are supposed to be gifts, that therefore have deadlines. One is for my son, that I had originally hoped to have done for his first birthday. Have now missed first and second. The next is for nephew number two, which was originally supposed to be done for his first birthday, then Christmas, then second birthday, and at this rate we’re going to miss Christmas again. The third is for nephew number three, and I had hoped to have it done for his first birthday but considering that’s only about a month after Christmas and I haven’t even started… yeah. I’m feeling real good about my ability to get things done.

Which is, of course, all part of the depression. Finding out the depression had not, in fact, gone away in high school like I thought it had really does explain quite a lot about me over the last eighteen years or so. I wish I could go back in time and say “Take the damn medication already; NOT even considering the option was a bad move.” I probably wouldn’t listen to me though. I have issues with listening to people who tell me what to do. ‘M sleepy.

You know what else is good? Listening to what the doctors and the labels say when they tell you how to take your medication. If they say “don’t just stop taking this; bad things could happen,” they probably mean it. I stopped taking my new med for a few days, because the first week of being on it combined with PMS really freaked me the fuck out. (That church service I mentioned in my last post? I ended up leaving, spontaneously and quickly. First just the service, but then the whole thing. Left my music up in the choir loft and everything.)

So Monday I didn’t take the medication, and I DID say that to the psychiatrist’s office when I called to make an emergency appointment for the next day. Since they didn’t say “Hey, take it again tomorrow,” I didn’t. Because it was freaking me the fuck out, and I didn’t like it and didn’t want to take it. I was pretty well a wreck on Tuesday. And I was lightheaded all day. Still was yesterday morning when I woke up. Took the new med – actually the old med, but a higher dose, because of course when a new medication combines with your hormones the logical thing to do is figure you’re not getting enough crazy and you should add some more. I know, I know, shh, calm down. I’m trusting the doctor on this and this is what she said to do. When I first went in, I may or may not have actually said the words “I will take whatever you tell me to until this goes away,” but I did my very best to convey that concept because I am bloody sick of feeling useless all the time.

Anyway, the point of that was to say that in less than an hour after taking the medication again, the lightheadedness stopped. Moral: If the label says “Don’t just stop taking this out of nowhere, idiot,” then, well, don’t just stop taking it out of nowhere, idiot. Even if you’ve only been on it nine days. I’m very tired. I still have four minutes left but I may not use them. I’m just… I’m tired, I want to go to bed. Or at least sit down in bed and read for a little bit. Like, five minutes, maybe. I wish I could find my druidry book. I can’t remember the last place I saw it.

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