Mind-drowning

I will not be sad to leave the front bedrooms behind. I have lived in them for 6 years – front bedrooms on busy commercial streets. I have grown used to nearly constant noises. Right now, for example, someone is… what is that buzzing anyway? Oh, of course. It’s a giant, multi-colored, polka-dotted cement mixer outside my window mixing away.

We will have a quiet back bedroom on a quieter sidestreet. Perhaps my head won’t hurt so much.

Perhaps I will be able to throw myself into having a project. I still seem capable of that. I have done a ton of work on my little crochet company website. I can’t wait to show it to you all. But wait I will, or else you will see the abysmal shape of my first draft of html. At least it has a cool flash intro, thanks to online web editors.

I dreamt that my stepmother commented on my blog. She is arriving in New York today, so I guess that’s normal. I probably won’t see her until Monday, though. She is going to be too busy galavanting around with the friend who brought her along on her business trip – she works for Macy’s, so it’s a dream vacation for my stepmom.

I have had numerous dreams about trying to catch a plane with my whole family. It is always my father making us late.

I feel more tired each morning. I sleep poorly. I was given back that fabulous sleepy drug, Seroquel, to take if the Wellbutrin disturbed my sleep, but I don’t want to take it until I am off the Effexor and the Prozac. I am going to try to set a little personal limit of two psychiatric drugs at any one time going forward. Only 5 more days of Prozac. I didn’t take my Effexor yesterday, so I am just waiting for the vertigo to hit any time now. Then maybe I will take a crumb of it so I can drive to Costco.

I really don’t want to drive to Costco. I want to hunker down, to play web designer and crocheter. I want to cuddle the dogs and cats and sleep all damn day. I haven’t done that in a while, as it is sort of a self-fulfilling depression-inducer. That is, I sleep all day because I feel depressed but I only feel more depressed when I realize I slept all day.

But I think maybe the Wellbutrin is helping a little. I think the job interview helped a little. I think the idea that there truly is an end, a limited nothing time, a few sacred months of rest, has made me appreciate them more.

I didn’t go to therapy this week. I have spent the last three days very much in my head and singing loudly and thinking deeply. I have not reached any great conclusions. At least I can’t talk about them. That’s why I didn’t go to therapy. I can’t talk right now. I am too deep inside my head, too far into my skull, mired too much in my thoughts. I want to stay here for a while and see what happens. Something tells me this is a place I need to be.