Sorry, I Forgot ...

Just for fun, my body has taken me on a roller coaster ride for the past few weeks. You see, this is why I would never bother to pay for it: I get it for free. Well, not really free. A better description would be, I get the ride as a bonus with the medication I take.

On top of the normal side effects I used to have: fatigue, dopiness, moderate shaking and others I've described in earlier posts, I've now developed some that are so severe it makes me think I've got either Parkinson's or Multiple Sclerosis.

Maybe I do. Who knows? But we get to add so many mental issues to this.

I cannot carry a full cup of coffee anymore. Or soup. Or anything hot and dangerous. Or cold and messy. In the words of a dear friend, "watching me eat peas with a fork is hysterical". The more I try to hold something steady, the more I shake. It affects my typing as my thumb and forefinger seem to be the most affected, since they're the ones used the most. My left hand is shot to freakin' hell.

My energy level is down most days. Not all days, but some days, leading me to believe that this is a "down cycle", as my shrink has said. But who the hell knows? I'm on so many medications now that I have no idea who or what I've become, or who I used to be. I'm simply the sum of psychiatric medications. JUMP, Puppet, JUMP.

But worst of all is the mental effect it's had. I can no longer concentrate. My short term memory is shot. I don't remember things I've been told 30 minutes ago, or yesterday. I've been working on a website with a friend of mine. She'll explain to me how to do something, and ten minutes, have to explain it again. To her credit, she hasn't called me stupid or untrainable, but rather accepts my explanation that it's the drugs ...

When I was growing up, I learned to cook with the rest of the members of my family. Now, I can't remember recipes I cooked last week. Meals are becoming more and more mundane all the time. The simpler they are, the better. While I know he understands this, I still feel wretched having to explain this to a man who works and commutes 13 hour days and deserves oh-so-much better.

Going to a grocery store is just a nightmare. Why? Because I can't remember what I'm supposed to buy. Sure, a list would help, but I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS I SHOULD PUT ON THE LIST. And because I'm fatigued so often, by the time I should be cooking dinner, I'm too tired to put much effort into making it. How's THAT for a chronic Catch-22?

I don't know what to do. I need the meds because while all of these side effects are making me feel like a shadow of my former self, I also know that with a few brief episodes, I'm more stable now than I have been in months. But how bad does it have to get? Would it be better to simply give in to the up and down of mental illness, the depression, the anxiety, and deal with it episodically and regain some mental acuity, or stay on an even keel and feel like I'm 75 years old and well into my declining years, or suffering a debilitating illness? I don't know.

There are no easy answers. I no longer feel good about myself. Going out isn't fun for me, and in fact is terrifying. Unless I'm with my husband, I simply stay home. This isn't ME. At 45 years old, with a wonderful, loving husband, it's starting to feel as if life is winding down. What a waste.