Sleep = Happiness

I went back to my doctor the other day, so she could draw blood for some routine tests (I hadn't known to fast at my first appointment, which was at 4 p.m. so that wouldn't have worked anyway for I'd have surely eaten my own arm if I had to fast from midnight until 4 p.m.) and to see how the mood elevator she put me on was working.

I had been thinking about what to tell her, because I knew the first question she'd ask was "How are you doing?" Not the "How are you" that people say in passing, but the making-eye-contact-and-being-super-empathetic-and-concerned-but-with-forced-nonchalance kind of way. "How are you doing."

And here's the thing: I am doing really well. Although I honestly couldn't say that it was because of the mood elevator or if things were just all around a lot better. M has been home a lot more than he was prior to my going in for that appointment and bursting into tears, mumbling, "I just can't do it all by myself." Since I'm not doing it all by myself, that eases the pressure quite a bit. Things slowed down to a steady pace at work. We are back in the school year routine with The Bug. And I had just come off the high of being on retreat. So, given all that, I was pretty sure that the medicine wasn't doing much at all, really. Except possibly dampening down all my emotions, which isn't good. I really wanted, I guess, a miracle drug. One that could identify the crap that I didn't want to feel (like being overwhelmed and stressed out) and knock that shit down, while letting the other emotions (joy, thanksgiving, empathy) run wild as they always have. I sat at that retreat and listened to all these wonderful, heart-warming stories and I didn't really cry. I take that back: I cried for one story. All the other ones felt like I was watching from a different viewpoint than my own. "I know this is totally tugging at my heart-strings right now, but I'll be damned if I can feel it." It was weird. And disconcerting. And uncomfortable. I was a disinterested third-party observer to my own life. This will never do.

I told my doctor all this, and feared that she would say, "Well, it's only been a month. Let's give it another and see how you do." She did not. She said, "Wanna go off it and see how you do?" Which was awesome. I also told her how I've been struggling to sleep (both fall asleep and stay asleep), and she thought about it for a moment and lit upon a medication that isn't habit-forming and was thought to be a slight anti-depressant but couldn't be used for that since it makes people sleep. Bonus! She prescribed 50 mg tablets, saying that I could take up to three at night. I took one the first night, at 8:30. By 9 p.m. I thought, "This isn't working. Bullshit tablet. I'll have to take more tomorrow." By 9:15 I was unconscious on my couch. Once I got myself to bed, I was sound asleep and didn't wake up the entire night. It was heaven. When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was able to get up. Sorta. I realized that I need to take it a bit earlier than 8:30 in order for the effects to wear off when I need to wake up. It has been wonderful. I no longer feel exhausted halfway through the day, and I'm not nodding off at my computer at 2:30 p.m.

I'm thinking that perhaps getting decent sleep might be, just maybe, imperative to actually functioning in a happy, productive state. Imagine that.

In a nutshell: I'm sleeping and things are good.