My Meds and Me

My meds are running low, you would think I could remember to call the pharmacy to get a refill. If I run out then bad things happen. I hate taking my meds, but I hate not taking them more. I feel overwelmed and my head is mushy. Not literly, that would be interesting though. I am picturing a head with the consistancy of Play-Dough. I guess fuzzy is a better way to describe it. Any sensory input could be the one that sets me off. When you have a child on the autism spectrum and daughter who is a diva and husband that is very unpleasant on his good days this is not a good combination.

Today my husband went out to get the kids lunch, but I had to go back out to get it done correctly. The best thing about it was that I was trying to relax a bit and was upstairs. There are no windows into the front or backyard upstairs. If the children are playing outside and only one parent is home it is important that they are not upstairs. Plus when upstairs, because there is a door at the bottom of the stairs a parent is not in a good position to supervise children when they are downstairs. Oddly enough if the kids are in the basement, because the placement of the heating ducts is ideal it is very easy to listen in on the two of them playing. It is like being a spy.

I did manage to hear the car turn on and pull away. At least one window overlooks the driveway. One thing that gets me so mad is when he leaves when I am upstairs or even worse asleep. The kids are home playing and doing what kids do and I have no idea that he is gone. I think he is watching the kids and luckily nothing bad has happened while he has been gone. When I ask him to tell me that he is leaving, he gets mad and swears at me (often in front of the kids). I have to take a deep breath and not snap as he yells at me. I really need to get that refill.

I don't like taking my meds because if I get mad he asks if I took my meds. They are for depression, they are not to make me a mindless yes mommy. I still have my full range of emotions. The meds I take keep me from snapping. They keep me sane, but I still will get mad if you tell me putting a garden in the back yard is stupid and you won't buy the soil or do anything to help me get it.

My seedlings have been growing for almost six weeks in the kitchen and need to be planted in real soil soon. One of the plants has already produced a couple beans.

, the zucchini is flowering and he won't help me get the soil, he won't ask anyone to hep us get the soil, and he keeps telling me that I am a horrible gardener and I shouldn't even bother. What is the pharmacy's phone number?

The air conditioners are still not in downstairs. He had a hard time putting the one in upstairs and has decided that it will be easier to take the air conditioners outside and have me open the window from the inside while he lifts them up to his shoulder level and slides them into the window from the outside. Did I mention he would have to wade through the bushes in the yard to get to the windows. When I try to point out to him that there might be an easier way (maybe putting them in from the inside?) he snaps and again swears and calls me horrible names. Now I need the refill number, ah there it is!

So is my depression something I have always had and recently identified or is it partially from before but more because I am in a marriage from hell? I ordered my refill and I am off to pick it up. One more month of Cymbalta and one more month of sanity.