After yesterday and today, I decided to go ahead and get the last refill of my double-dose ADs. I really thought that the shit wouldn't hit the fan until much closer to Christmas, at which point I had planned to be much more used to the single dose schedule. Best laid plans, eh? Well, shit. I hope this is a whole lot better by the end of December. I really don't want to have to admit to Jimmy that I've done this and worse, that I might need another month or so of higher dose crap. I keep thinking, though, that not only do I need to make sure that I am sane and apparently normal for my own children, but also for Charlotte and Owen ... everyone else (almost) can take a flying leap. All four kids have been through the wringer these last several months (O and C more than anyone) , and they need as normal a Christmas as we can give them. So if it takes pharmaceutical help for me to achieve that this year, so fucking be it.
Had a TMI conversation with my dear FIL today ... took the giant box pieces that Joanne and I will hopefully transform into a fun playhouse for the kids over to his house, and he helped me tuck them into the garage. I asked if he was going south this afternoon, and he got a shy, sheepish look on his face and said, "well, I was thinking about it..." I told him to have a nice trip, and he said, "that's better than BettyAnn telling me to be careful!" and I said, "I don't want to think about whatever Betty's telling you to be careful about!" His response was "Well, the Lexapro pretty much takes care of that so nobody needs to worry." Then we talked a little about the meds -- how I was going to go back to the double dose for a month and then go back down after the holidays, and he said he had tried going off it last week and he decided that was a bad idea, side effects and all. I just hope that this works out for him. Leaving him today I was so very sad, but it was weird -- it wasn't an I'm sad for him kind of thing, it was more an "I'm sad that things are going to be different and I don't know what all this means". Part of me wants to tell him this, but I don't want to burden him, and I don't want him to think I disapprove -- because I definitely don't. That man put in a lifetime's worth of effort and emotion into the last ten or fifteen years, and he deserves every break and wonderful thing there is in life at this point.
Damn, but I need to get my hair done. I haven't been to the salon since July, and my hair looks like absolute shit on a shingle. There's my selfish moment for the week.
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