Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.
I’m not talking about candy. Although I love candy. Like, really love it. Especially the chocolate covered kind.
But I digress.
The thing about mental illness, it is always evolving.
One day, I am feeling pretty great, cracking jokes and wanting to work on my novel or chat with my friends.
The next day, I can feel like nothing much matters, everything sucks and that I am doomed to failure. I want to be left alone to stew in my darkness.
But at least those feelings eventually pass now instead of sticking to my body like a skunk sprayed me.
Shut up, Mr. Skunk. Go eat some stink-weed or something.
My daughter also has clinical depression, OCD and anxiety, just like me, good old mom. I have passed the torch onto her. I had feared this for a long time.
I’ve talked to a couple of good friends about this and I feel better about it. It was rather inevitable, I suppose. Genetics are a bitch.
At least she didn’t inherit her fathers ass-holism.
The doctor put her on Paxil. My baby girl wanted me there with her, so I was able to put my two cents in. I will be watching her like a hawk. She says that today she feels a little dizzy, but that should pass within a few days. We are hopeful that this med will do the trick and that she will start feeling better soon. If not, there are so many antidepressants that something is bound to help eventually.
She also has some non-addicting anxiety medication that could knock out an elephant.
My daughter also acquired my sense of humor. That will get her far, as long as she can manage to never allow it to go missing for too long.
Like one of my friends said, there is always hope.
We’re going to be okay, somehow. Together.