How Are You?

DISCLAIMER: Seriously, you shouldn't read this. None of it. Especially if you think the answer is "fine." And you if are male (as half of my reader(s) are) you may want to stop right now. I warned you. You don't want to go any further. You have only yourself to blame.

Of course if someone asks me today "How are you?" I will endeavor to be polite and do the right thing and say "fine" which is what everyone wants to hear. They do not want to hear "pretty frickin' far from fine" which is how I would describe someone who just spent half an hour hiding in the shower, crying in deep despair.

WARNING: GO AHEAD AND STOP READING RIGHT NOW

I already know that it is PMS. I also know for the next few days, I won't want to see anyone. Talk to anyone. Interact with people at all. That I will cry. Scream. Throw things. I've done all this already this morning and it is barely noon.

I've had periods since I was 11. I am 36. It has always been a nightmare, but since having the children, it has only gotten worse. I complained of this to my ob/gyn after having Jude and she put me on antidepressants. I functioned and stay on them until deciding to get pregnant again.

I was depressed after both babies, depressed about being home all the time getting no sleep and then even more depressed when I had to go back to work. But I functioned.

And the PMS got worse and worse. I went back to the ob/gyn who put me back on Effexor, which didn't work at all. Then I went to my family doctor who put me on Lexapro, which didn't work at all. Then I went to a psychiatrist who put me on high doses of Lexapro, which did lessen the PMS symptoms as well as any other feelings I had and it took my libido away completely. Because of who and what I am, this was not acceptable.

Then the testing for ADD. A new med: Vyvanse, which offered great concentration and focus. So I complained about the lack of libido and got off of Lexapro. The psychiatrist told me that because of my "generalized anxiety disorder" that I will likely end up going back on Lexapro, even though I told him I hated it because of the aforementioned lack of a sex drive, which was very problematic for me and made me feel very unlike myself.

Of course my psychistrist does know me very well. After all, we spend 10 to 15 minutes together every month so that he can write me a prescription for the Vyvanse and then take a "wait and see" approach with the whole PMS/depression thing. So every month I go visit him, feel fine that day and then a few days later become so down that I cry at my desk at work, cry at home (though I try not to let the boys see that too much, they see it far too much) and generally don't want to see anyone. I am convinced that no one talks to me because no one likes me.

Then, after days and days of this, I suddenly get over it. Feel better. Act better. Engage people on conversations again just in time to see my psychiatrist again who will overcharge me for 10 minutes of his precious time.

Apparently "generalized anxiety disorder" means exactly the same thing as PMS Apparently I have tied and failed to get the doctors to understand how I feel. The psychiatrist even mentioned that some of his patients take Prozac for 10 days out of the month. I said "Great, let's try that." He said we would talk about it at our next $90.00 -- I mean at our next visit.

Meanwhile, here I am. Crying. Blogging about crying. Upset. Frustrated and utterly hopeless. That is what I feel. Endless hopelessness that drags on for day after day. Dark thoughts and mood swings. And it isn't like people don't know. My family lived with me. My husband lives with me. I had college roommates and friends and I have children and coworkers and doctors and now the three people who read this blog will know my stupid little secret. I am a raging, upset, crying mess of a human being.

But hey, in a few days I'll be okay again and we can just pretend that this never happened. And this time next month, I'll go back to not blogging and crying in secret and just accepting the engulfing black hopelessness that arrives again and again. And today I'll go out to my brother's house and see people and pretend that I am okay and should anyone ask how I am, I'll of course answer "fine."