So the main difference between Prozac and not-Prozac seems to be how overwhelmed I feel. On Prozac, my sense that everything was spinning rapidly out of my control was significantly reduced. Off Prozac, I feel like there is not enough time in my day to get anything done and also I cannot possibly do anything I need to do and we are all dooooooomed. On the other hand, I can get up in the morning without feeling like I need to immediately take a nap. So…win?
The thing that makes it tricky is that I do have a lot to do, and I don’t have enough time to do it, so feeling overwhelmed is kind of an appropriate reaction, right? Although it could be argued that keeping a level head makes it a lot easier to get as much done as possible, whereas sitting on the couch frozen by indecision isn’t exactly productive.
You see my conundrum.
Also: I hate taking pills every day, and I hate having to take pills every day. Blargh.
Spent the day having the most annoyingly low-key panic attack ever. I realize the low-key bit makes it sound relatively benign, but you try spending the day with your heart racing and what feels like a bowling ball on your chest and let me know how productive you are. Or don’t, since you’ll probably be all yeah, that panic attack was a piece of cake and cranky mama is just a big wuss and then I’ll be sad and feel like a loser. So keep it to yourself.
This all started because I lost my photo album. It’s probably been lost for a while, but I only realized it was lost today, when I tore apart the house looking for it. It’s like the best-of photo album, the one with all my favorite pictures of all time (I started it in high school and we all know how long ago that was). How is it that I still have things like my old keychain with the (admittedly very cool) X-Files keyring but not my photo album? Not So insists that it’s got to be here somewhere but I of course am convinced it’s gone forever and all is lost. That’s why they call it an anxiety disorder, folks.
In other news, I miss people.
In Oregon, we get to vote by mailing in our ballots. This is a fabulous system, but it does have its drawbacks.
Pros: Easy, low-effort, can vote naked or in pajamas.
Cons: No instant gratification, no “I voted!” sticker.
In general, though, I highly recommend the voting-by-mail system, and suggest to all who live in places which are not Portland that perhaps you should consider a change of venue.
That said, I’m horribly anxious about the election, and keeping my eye trained on Mahalo’s Election Results page to see if I can use my mind-power mojo to bend the results to my will. So far it isn’t working, but then again, the polls are still open. If you hear a voice in the back of your head saying “Don’t be a jackass. Vote for Obama,” well: you’re welcome.
Zen as I might be about socioeconomic status, there’s still a part of me that gets off on being able to Afford Things. Nice things. Things like my prettypretty BlackBerry Pearl or our multitude of Apple products. That part of me really, really wants to join this snooty athletic club that’s $100 a month and totally, completely impractical. But they totally offer childcare, and the idea of paying someone to watch my kid while I take a yoga class? Compelling. (See, because when I leave him with Not So for no reason except that there’s something I ‘want’ to do, I always feel guilty. Yes yes, I know, therapy would help with these things. But – another reason to feel guilty! You see my dilemma.)
I’m starting to feel a little bit like our lives are getting managable, which – hey, there’s a reason I take meds, you know? When just getting out of bed in the morning seems huge and untenable, it’s kind of a big deal to think that things might actually be okay, kind of. It was cleaning the house that did it. We’ve got this great apartment that I love unreasonably (well, except for the permeating smell of Rice Junkies that greets me every morning), but it’s jammed so full of stuff that it might as well be a storage unit. But Not So went all MacGyver on the stuff in Ellison’s room this weekend, so not only is all our old crap hidden successfully in the closet, we finally got to assemble the kid’s toddler bed! And, dude, don’t even get me started on how exciting it is to think that someday in the possibly near future I may be able to sleep through the night again. In any position I want. I can barely contain my potential bliss.
Next step is to get our room whipped into shape. This is a bit more complicated than it sounds, since we’re waiting to be able to afford these cheap-but-cute wardrobes from Ikea so that I can stop keeping my clothes in a big ol’ Rubbermaid storage bin and actually explore the idea of drawers.