I don’t want to talk to you.
I just don’t.
You aren’t a bad person, you haven’t wronged me, pissed me off or changed my mind about the type of person you are. I haven’t grown sick of you, decided I don’t want to be friends or cut you out of my life. I just don’t want to talk. To anyone.
I spent the last week wanting to punch everyone in the face. I stormed around in irritable moods, pouting my way through shifts at work and cursing at other drivers. My mood swings were out of control, ranging from completely despondent to excitable to absolutely pissed off. They got so bad I called the mental health on call nurse and asked if it could be a result of my medication- unfortunately, it wasn’t. I have only been on it for a week and a half and it is low dosage, so chances are it just isn’t working. I was moody before I started quetiapine and effexor, but it was getting to the stage where I was resenting my kids for wanting to go outside or wanting to kick my washing machine for making me hang clean clothes out.
It was worse on the days where I was exhausted too. If Miss E woke through the night, I was a right closed off, despondent shit for the rest of the day. My days off seemed great, as I didn’t push myself to do anything I didn’t want to do- I rested, tidied and baked as I wanted. The days I worked though, man they took it out of me. I got home wrecked and just wanting to be left alone in bed to troll the internet. It was a lot of effort to put on the friendly facade at work- to not seem like a grumpy and rude turd infront of the customers was actually harder than the work I do.
Over the weekend I broke. I broke down, and I felt like my body and mind had shattered into a million pieces.
Why aren’t I getting better? Am I not putting in enough effort? Why am I putting my family and husband through all this?
I called the mental health nurse and bawled my eyes out to her for an hour. She thought that based on our previous conversations I was doing well. I was lying. i don’t know why. Even though they are trained to speak to people with mental illness, you don’t want to admit to them that you just want to be left the eff alone for three days straight. Unless you are suicidal, you feel as though you are wasting their time. Well, I do anyway. So when I called and said that I feel like I am back at square one- yet again- she was surprised and thought I had just had a bad day. But two days on, I still don’t want to leave the couch or talk to anyone.
Narelle (the nurse) was lovely- telling me that not driving my ute into oncoming traffic that morning like I wanted to was a strength of mine (I know it won’t accomplish anything), but also said that I would take a very long time to heal. This is not what I wanted to hear. I WANT to get better- I don’t want to come home and have my husband say “Guess you’re going to lay down all night now?” and actually do just that. I want to go for walks with my kids without feeling like I will fall asleep on my feet, and I want to enjoy things again. I miss liking my job. I miss running. I miss my friends.
But I hate talking. Even this is taking effort. I’ve ignored texts, not replied to invitations, cancelled plans…. the lot. I am the most unsociable git out there. I just cry and think about… nothing. I have no interest in your life, I barely have interest in my own. I’m sorry if you think I am being rude- it’s not on purpose. I just cannot even gather enough thought to carry out a conversation. I am getting many offers for help, and while I appreciate the thoughts, I barely know how to help myself let alone how others can help me. Even with my dire financial situation, I don’t think winning the lotto would make a lick of difference at this stage.
I thought I was getting better. I thought that I just needed to tough out the irritability and mood swings for a bit longer till the meds kicked in. But I can’t. So tomorrow I am seeking help yet again. I spent all day today on the couch watching the food channel. Tomorrow I will make an effort to get outside and do something productive. Like change my meds and find a psychologist. And maybe a yoga instructor.
One step forward… two steps back. But I WILL get better.