Well, Shit...

Yeah. 

There's a difference between being solitaire and actively avoiding folks. And I have to admit that, though I qualify as a dedicated former, I have been doing the latter. 

Still am, really... After all, no one actually reads this thing. I could post on Facebook but the reality is that all the people on my friends list will suddenly turn well-meaning and concerned but more as a means to assuage their guilt at not staying in touch more and thus this post catching them out of the blue and all. 

THAT would do more harm than good as it would simply prove my brain's point that, while I have plenty of acquaintances, I have few real friends (less than one full hand's worth if I'm being honest) ... most of whom are either too embroiled in their own shit trying to survive Life while others have become part of the problem. Suddenly chirping in with "thoughts and prayers" after not even remembering I exist unless I post something on public media serves only to make them feel better while I'm forced into the frame of the grateful recipient of their empty platitudes. Might as well be handing me a weapon and then making space inside my skull for me to wield it with terminal efficiency. 

Oh well. Far less fear of that happening here. 

Here goes...

This is a face of mental illness 

It's one I know well, being mine own...

I've been avoiding posting any photos of myself, indeed I've been avoiding posting on Facebook (nothing beyond Some likes and today's post about the boy at PlayAbby), for over a week now. Well, until now ... Mainly because I don't have the internal fortitude to deal with the reactions. 

Really don't care if anyone likes my new look or not because I loathe it. But it was necessary so I'm trying to console myself with the  "at least it will grow back " line of reasoning though it's not working so I just do my best to avoid looking in any reflective surfaces. 

Why was it necessary? In a nutshell because my brain is trying to kill me hence the mental illness comment above. 

Looking back, I suspect that this has been brewing for a while; probably since M'Lady crossed over. And I also suspect that hormonal changes due to menopause are playing a role in this as well since it went active (I've been peri- menopausal since my mid-forties) this past spring. 

I've been having sensory processing issues... the worst of which manifests as a powerful, crawling, painful/itchy sensation in the hair follicles of my scalp. The mental distress caused by these sensations is significant. Enough that I have been ripping at my head with my nails and then pulling the hair that gets wrapped around my fingers. I do this subconsciously and also in my sleep, leaving welts and waking to dried blood under my nails. 

The pressure built to a point where I had to do something to make it stop. Since the whole thing was making me want to hurt myself (because the pain I was inflicting on myself felt better than what my scalp was doing) and that is a terribly dangerous situation to allow to persist, I did the only thing I could. 

Went into the hairdresser and got my hair chopped shorter than its ever been since it grew in when I was a baby. I hate the look of it but not having the length to tangle around my fingers has provided enough decrease of distress to allow me to weather this processing issues a bit longer. I'm still scratching  furiously but not as hard as previously (for now anyways). 

Yeah... For now 

Baby steps ...

Is starting to see more of 'her' Darius showing through ... the cuddly, bubbly, happy, helpful boy she knows is in him ... and a gradual, almost glacial, lessening of the anxious, angry, rage filled mini-monster who invaded her home back in September. 

Progress is being made and, interestingly, FB Memories is helping me understand and appreciate how incremental Amaya's improvements were when she came to us. It's helping me remember how far she has come and how much work it was to get her to a point where she could figure out for herself that life was better when the home was calm and tempers (hers and that of others) were controlled. 

It's encouraging and I need that. 

I don't know if it is because him being a boy is dredging up garbage I haven't dealt with from when my boys were little (Gods know that is likely enough) or if it's because I'm that much older than I was with Amaya but this time the work is hard. I'm spending a great deal of time counting ... often with my eyes squeezed tight shut to increase my focus ... to 10 before responding to Darius' antics. 

The strength of my reactions is eye opening and, as such, puts me on notice that I really have to watch and moderate them if I want to achieve my goal of bringing the best of the boy out in him. The key is to sensitized him to a gentle response to his actions ... He is so used to the loud, aggressive, over the top reactions of an abusive household that he can't yet respond to a subtle correction. And Amaya going back and forth from protective little-mama to aggravated or nagging big sister ups the challenge level significantly. 

Well, no one's ever claimed personal growth and self-mastery was easy, eh?

Darius too will get there ... 

Navigating the slackline ... Depression management

So, some folks might have noticed I haven't been around social media much the last two weeks.

In response to losing M'Lady, things got pretty bad inside my head so I conferred with my Dr and he agreed that a lateral move on my antidepressant was warranted.

I've been switched to Zoloft from Cypralex and, while the Z helped me avoid the worst of the C withdrawal symptoms (blood pressure irregularityes that can be life threatening in a sudden discontinuation), it's not been a pleasant time to be me (or around me ... Kara is a saint!).

The Z is finally getting up to full loading dose and I'm starting to notice the difference. I feel like crap from the flu bug but emotionally/mentally I'm experiencing a sense of stability and lightening of mood that I didn't get with the C.

I think a lot of that has to do with the actual formulaic differences between the two prescriptions. The Cypralex (or escitalopram as the generic version is called) is taken in the morning upon waking while the Zoloft is taken right before bed and actually acts to encourage restful sleep as part of it's target actions. This seems to be doing the trick in my case ... I can say that I haven't slept this well in a long time and, using the Z in conjunction with my 4:1 ratio CBD/THC night time tincture, I have been waking rested for the first time in a VERY long time. Comparing the Z's drowsy action to the Zopiclone (actual sleeping pill) that I have had to take for short periods over the years, I don't experience any of the nightmares I normally get with the Zo AND, should I have a bad dream, I'm not locked into sleep so I can wake myself up to escape the experience. Looking forward to kicking this bug out of the house so I can see if I'm really experiencing an upturn in my mood. Cautiously optimistic at this time. :D