Today was one of those days. The kind where you need two PRNs just to get through, and even then, you’re like—why does my brain hate me? The mental health journey is really testing me this week. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to finally be stable after over a year of medication roulette (seriously, I could write a pharmacy catalog at this point). But my anxiety? Oh, she’s not going anywhere. We’ve tried bumping up my antipsychotic doses, but it’s like bringing a butter knife to a sword fight. Useless.
This week, anxiety even woke me up out of a dead sleep, and I couldn’t fall back asleep until I caved and took another PRN. Stability is nice, yes, but the tradeoff seems to be boredom + restlessness + a constant buzz of anxiety. Basically, I feel like my whole personality is pacing in circles.
After work I scooped up hubby—our little after-work rides are one of my favorite rituals. We got home with plans to finally tackle those storage bins I keep mentioning, but yeah… anxiety said “nope.” I know myself—when I push through on days like that, I just end up snappy and miserable. So instead, we got the weasels out for some playtime (they always cheer me up), and then it was dinner. French bread pizzas and mac & cheese. Let me just say, French bread pizza is officially making its way onto my “comfort food” list. I don’t have the best relationship with food, and I tend to hyper-fixate on certain meals—but hey, if French bread pizza wants to be that girl right now, I’m not complaining.
Trazodone experiment update: I took it this morning to help with sleep, but wow… it took me over an hour to fall asleep, and then poor Jay had to spend a solid 20 minutes just trying to wake me up. (Bless him.) After he went to work, I thought I had it under control. Spoiler: I did not. I collapsed on the couch and swore to myself I’d only nap for an hour. I set alarms—one for the hour, then another every five minutes for the next thirty minutes. Tell me why I slept through four alarms. FOUR. The disrespect.
Hubby even called me from work like, “Didn’t you only want to nap an hour? I was worried you forgot to set an alarm.” Husband of the year award, right there. I told him I did set alarms, thank you very much, but apparently, one hour was just playing games with me. Ended up being closer to two.
By the time I finally woke up for real, I had about 25 minutes to get dressed, pack my bag, and sprint out the door. Somehow, I pulled it off. (Gold star for me.)
So yeah… today was exhausting, a little frustrating, but also full of small wins—like French bread pizza, husband check-in calls, and still making it to work on time despite my nap shenanigans.