Feeling Is Living, Right?

Prepare for a total rant about whatever.

So, I’ve been off my anti-dees for more than a full week. Can I tell a difference? You bet I can. When I was on Effexor, my life was leveled, not in a bad way, but in a way where I was going through the motions, getting through my days without too much drama or screaming, or feeling low. I functioned, and felt well.

I’m off them now. There are differences. I wasn’t sure there would be, but there are definite things I notice. Pre anti-dees, which was probably four or five years ago, spilt milk would send me into a fit of rage, screaming that the GD milk spilled, and how could that have happened? It would infuriate me, and I hated that feeling.

Those feelings are back. With a vengeance. And I hate it still, but it's uncontrollable. And I’m aware it’s happening, and I try to tell myself, “So what, the milk spilled.” So what if there’s dried-up Easy Mac stuck to the stove. What is the big fucking deal?

I woke up this morning with OCD. Too bad OCD doesn’t stand for … Owesomely Cut Dude or something like that to imply I was waking up with some hottie. Other than the hottie I married—for those of you who know Mr. Manic, I’m sure you’re laughing at that one!

I woke up wishing I didn’t have to get up to get the kids to school. Gloomy perfect Monday with spitting rain, dark skies. A sleep-in kind of morning. I thought I’d get Ajers and Diva to school, and then Tukey and I could sneak back to bed and snuggle during Curious George. That was my plan. But when I got downstairs and opened the fridge, I saw crumbs on the shelves, leftover little twisty ties in the drawers, onion peels! And I went ballistic, in the "I’ve-got-to-clean-this-shit-up-pronto" way, not in the "I'm-grabbing-a-knife-and-killing-myself" way.

I took everything out, wiped down all the shelves, tossed salad dressings dated from 2006, shelved items according to food group. I just had to do it AT.THAT.MOMENT.

Then, after it was all cleaned and organized, I realized there was no food. So, I went to the grocery store. When I got home, I cut up fruit and vegetables, filled snack-size baggies with carrots, pretzels. Filled canisters with goldfish, teddy grahams, wheat thins. I couldn’t help myself.

My OCD took over. I cut avocados. Celery. Carrots. Cucumbers. Red bell peppers. Pineapple. A cantelope. Apples. Cilantro. BROCCOLI! I washed and rinsed grapes. Cherry tomatoes. I have decided that if I have to throw any of this food out, I am never going to the trouble again. I used a new knife. That felt good. And I never once thought about cutting wrists or arteries. So that's good!

With Effexor, my OCD was dead. I could manage. I didn’t care that there was some purple onion peel at the bottom of the shelf or that there was a lemon chunk that had grown fur on it. Or that a bit of salt had sprinkled on the counter. Those things didn’t bother me at all when I was on Effexor. Now, they piss the hell out of me.

It’s weird. The highs are really, really beautiful highs, like, “I am so lucky to have the family I have, the life I have” kind of highs, and then the next minute, I’m reading about the first black kids who were integrated into an all-white public high school in nineteen-fifty-something (courtesy of Time for Kids, from Ajers’ fourth grade class), and I’m sitting there with a lump in my throat and bawling my eyes out.

But you have to feel to live, don’t you? I should be thankful I am able to have emotions, and feel gladness, and even feel the sadness because that makes the gladness all the more happy, right?

But, side effects of getting off this med have been less than pleasant. Migraines that make me vomit, an all-over itching that makes me feel like ripping my skin off my body in order to get relief. I even have to get the pasta spoon out or use a hair brush to scrape relief into my back. The itching is sporadic, every other day or so, but when it hits, I want to peel the top layer off my body. Benedryl helps, but then makes it hard to wake up in the morning. I was up from 1 a.m. to 4 a.m. with itching on Sat.

OK, now I’m feeling very whiny, and distracted, and that wasn’t the point of this post, but I don’t even know if I had a point, which is making me think that the Effexor was also helping my ADD. OK, so I don’t have ADD, at least I don’t think I do, which maybe makes me think I do. Holy F bomb. Do you ever wonder if bi-polar people are aware they are bi-polar and what that entails, and how do they feel when they are bi-polar? Just curious. Cuz maybe I am. Bi-polar. Or not. I don't know!

See how whacked out I am that I cannot even stick to one subject. URGH!!

I go to the doctor tomorrow, and I have a list of things to discuss, like how do I stop itching. How do I stop these incapacitating migraines? How come I haven’t lost the 30 pounds I wanted to lose before my reunion? How come I GAINED the 30 pounds I lost through WW after Tukey was born. Why does the sun rise? Why do underwear climb up butt cracks? Why am I chewing my gum like a cow right now? Why do I enjoy posts about me chewing gum like a holstein? I do that a lot, I guess.

WHY AM I ITCHING RIGHT NOW?

You know what? I’m done. This is boring the shit out of me. Sorry I’m so whiny. Just tellin’ it like it is.

Peace UP. Maybe. I don’t know.

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PS. This post was written on Monday. I'm waaaaaayy better today.