Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Better watch out, better not cry...

One year.

How can so much change, yet not change at all in one year?  

How can a person's beliefs and truths be so solid, then completely challenged and fall apart in a year?

How does everything make so much damn sense, and then make no sense at all?  Is this what life is? Is this what being human is?  Once we grow up, and we have reached the stage of adulthood, are we are set up to gain and to lose, to grow and to wither, to fight and then give up the fight...  And then maybe it all starts again?  I've said I move around in circles... Is that what we all do?  Am I different from anyone else?  Are we all just living in a circular pattern, and the ups seem like a change in shape, but the centrifugal force is only pulling you around, and maybe it just feels like more of a rush for a moment in time?  

Is that how we, as adults, are supposed to live?  Is that why everyone gives up something, whether they realize it or not?  Or are some people less scared, and less cynical, and less stuck, and do they propel into the unknown and keep going in that direction, forever growing up?  They still make mistakes and feel pain and have losses, but they don't give up or wither... 

I am battling two mind fuckers right now:   PMDD, and the after affects of Prozac, which reacted terribly with my brain.  I have to wait for the Prozac to leave my system.  There is no quick way to get the bad feelings, and physical reactions to the medication to go away.  I have to wait it out.  And then luteal phase hits, and I'm doubly fucked.  I shouldn't swear so much.  I don't know how else to describe what is happening to me right now.  

But I'm not giving up and crying all day, and I'm... alive...  I'm here.  I never thought I could survive PMDD if it felt worse than it already did, yet I have felt it, and I have survived.  I am confused, and tired and anxious, and depressed, but each day I tell myself it's almost over...  I hope..  God, I really hope it clears, that my mind clears, and I am myself for Christmas.  I think of my children, who are amazing people and deserving of the greatest gifts of love and attention and support, and I want to and need to be their mommy, fully and completely, without anything weighing me down, and pulling me away from them.  Mothers should never get sick.  Mothers should never have PMDD.  Mothers should never be this sad.  And I think... well, I am that fucking sad, but then again, I am reminded of joy and good and beauty because I have children.  And that knowledge keeps my head above water.  

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