I am afraid to write. I am afraid that I can't do it anymore. That whatever well of ideas and words that was in me has dried up, and the effort to dig a new one is just too much for me right now. I am not sure what to do about this, so I thought I'd just get these thoughts out of my head, on the page and tell you about what's been going on with me. 

February was somewhat of a rollercoaster month and I am feeling slightly woozy from the ride and still trying to get my bearings on solid ground. 

I am sure you are wondering how this can be, given that I just had a lovely vacation with my little family on the beautiful island of Kaua'i* and I should be all rested and relaxed and rejuvenated right? 

What you don't know is that right before we left for our holidays, after 14 months of staring at the bottle in my medicine cabinet, I decided to start taking the anti-depressants that I have been avoiding for.... well, for a long time. I thought I was strong enough, able to cope with whatever life had to throw at me. You know, just toss a little bit of meditation and yoga and "me time" at it and all will be good. I was wrong. 

My breaking point was a few days before when the kids were home from school for a PD day. I was trying to get everything ready before we left for holidays and was feeling increasingly overwhelmed and over-tired and over-spent. And then I lost it. Over something that I can't even remember now and was mostly likely utterly ridiculous. I screamed. I slammed doors. I cried. I made them figure out their own lunch. My sister and her family came over for dinner later that day and the first words I said to her when she walked in the door were, "PLEASE HELP, I JUST CAN'T MOTHER ANYMORE!"

In early 2015, my family doctor had diagnosed me with PMDD (pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder), which is fancy for REALLY BAD PMS and it was for this that she had prescribed the aforementioned antidepressants. I was at the right time in my cycle and in full PMS/PMDD mode at the time of my break. On that day, I realized whatever mechanisms and abilities I possessed internally to cope with life, they were not going to be enough this time. I took the first little white and yellow capsule that night. 

Over the next few days, things became even more clear. For the past few years, I've been functioning with a baseline that stems from a traumatic event - Nine's septic shock and stroke, and then having to face surgery for him again this past summer. Even typing those words out right now has my guts going into an automatic tailspin and flutter-whirl. Time apparently likes to take it's own sweet-ass time to heal all the wounds. My therapist had said to me, on more than one occasion, that she would like to see me functioning with a different baseline, and thinks that the medication will help me get there. I think she was right. 

I have been on the meds for just over a month now and I am thankful that I started them when I did as this has turned out to be a rougher than usual season of our lives. I know, I know, I'm being somewhat vague about what is going on. Please understand that some of it is not my story to tell and the parts that are, I am just not ready to share them yet. Trust me when I say that we will all be fine, better than fine actually, but like they say, change is hard. Good for you in the end, but sometimes hard at the beginning and in the middle parts. 

Please bear with me as I navigate with my new baseline and take care of all of myself and the people closest to me. I know the words and ideas will come back. As you can see, some of them already have. 

N~

*P.S. I will tell you all about Kaua'i in another post soon! It is by far my favourite of all the Hawaiian islands!