I'm having second thoughts about going back on behavioral medications.
See, people that I've met in the past four to five years know me as I am now. I don't know what they are going to put me on but based on my past history with behavioral drugs, that will change. It's not a suspicion, that's a fact.
When Olivia was a few months old, I had a manic breakdown. I had three children in diapers and my husband was off to sea. My neighbor noticed that I hadn't come outside in a couple of days and very nicely came over to see if I was okay because as a fellow navy wife in the springtime it's a common thing to want to have your children out in the fresh air as much as possible and she hadn't seen me outside letting my kids run. It's a bit fuzzy and by fuzzy I mean I'm trying hard to reconcile what I DO remember with the description of how they found me.
See I remember Demetria just walking in the front door and picking up the kids and taking me to her house and from there blank until I woke up in the hospital. The description of how they found me through their eyes is a little bit different. Demetria said that she hadn't seen me outside so she came to knock on the door and when I didn't answer she tried the knob. She says she found me in the kitchen in the corner curled up screaming to God what had I done to deserve this life. She then claims that she and her sister took my kids and me to her house where she gave me a drink as it was the only way to calm me down. She says that she then she called the ombudsman of my ship who came over and made the decision to call the hospital who made the decision to keep me. All of this was done while I was knocked out from whatever drink she gave me.
Like I said. Fuzzy. And I'm not altogether sure which parts are true to word and which parts are true to word and which parts are exaggerated. I mean I can see that maybe I would have a breakdown like that in front of my kids but I generally have a fail safe switch that goes off in my head that keeps me from letting that final thread snap in front of them. But at the same time even I know that one can't control when that crucial thread just ignores your best efforts and snaps anyway.
Whatever. The point is that that episode landed me in the mental ward of a military hospital for a couple of days and on behavior modification drugs for some years afterwards.
The first one I was on was Depacote. Big and orange. That one was definitely not a good fit. I was holding Olivia one night and I stood at the top of the stairs and wondered what would happen if I just stepped off. While I was holding my infant daughter. I don't know what snapped me out of the thought but I remember having the thought. I told the doctor this thought and he agreed that I needed to try a different med.
The second one was a small white pill. That one spaced me into zombie territory. According to Randy, I sat in the car one long ride home from the North and I started counting. He says he asked me what I was counting and I replied cars. Not red ones. Not blue ones. Not caddies. Not Toyotas. Just cars. I don;t know who decided that wasn't a good med I just know I was taken off it.
Skip a few years and picture me trying very hard to fit in with the mainstream and feeling like the salmon in a river full of trout. Something made me want to buck the system and swim upsteam regardless of what I should have been doing. It didn't work. I cried most nights and worked so hard at keeping my mouth shut during the day that I gave myself migraines.
Then I started drinking. A lot.
A lot of fights later and a suicide attempt, I found that you can only fool people for so long before the truth comes out.
Once again, navy doctors put me on a med. Zoloft to be exact. This one wasn't so bad, to tell the truth. I was kinda level on it.
But in true Claudette style, with the final crumble of my marriage, I decided, without the husband who in my mind equaled the stress, I didn't need the stress meds.
To be completely honest, I don't think I've done bad all these five years without the medication but like I said. You can on'y fool the crowd for so long and a big breakdown is coming. I know it. I feel it like a storm coming up.
So even though I'm having second and third thoughts about going back on behavioral medications, I'm going to do it if that's what they want me to do.
Hmmm...
Make that second, third fourth, and fifth thoughts...
