If I thought September was bad, I had no idea October was about to hand my ass to me, then slap me in the face to make sure I understood. This is the month shit got real. And by real, I mean a complete and total descent into darkness. It’s amazing what humans can go through and still somehow emerge whole again. Eventually. This year has been a constant reminder as to just how resilient I can be.
The never-ending nausea turned out to be the birth control, so I switched from Gildess to Loestrin 1.5/30. Changing birth controls is so tough on the body, so I was wary of starting a new pill. I warned everyone close to me that terrible mood swings could occur. I had been fine on the Gildess – almost too fine. Like a robot. I didn’t know how I would handle this new pill.
Within a week, the crazy train rolled into town and I hopped on with my one-way ticket.
I transformed into someone I didn’t recognize – a monster. Yet I still had the cognitive ability to detach and observe myself from a neutral point of view. I could see the things I was doing and thinking, and I knew they were irrational, but I couldn’t control it. It was a very scary thing to experience. Like being in a prison that nobody could see but me.
Waves of anger, sadness and jealousy washed over me with enough force to flood any reason that might have been trying to poke through and save me. Sticky tentacles of depression wrapped themselves around my brain. I became so paranoid of the people close to me that I assumed they were all lying to me, thus filling me with daily panic. I violently sobbed for days. I was angry with everyone and would go into rages for no reason at all. I would wake up so low that I wouldn’t leave my room for days.
How could one tiny pill cause such a radical personality change? I hated myself, and I was afraid this was the “new” me. After 4 weeks I go back into the office to tell them I can’t do this anymore. The nurse tells me to give the pill a full 8 weeks before we can really see how my hormones adjust. In the meantime, they give me Wellbutrin to counter the effects of the pill and help my depression. Something about SSRI’s and serotonin inhibitors and only certain anti depressants work with the endo medication I’m on, blah blah blah. It’s all very confusing.
Mathias said he normally puts patients who have been through multiple surgeries on anti depressants for about 6 months to a year. Considering endo has been slowly deteriorating my body for almost 2 decades, and my body has gone through great trauma this year, I’m not surprised depression finally found a home in me. 2014 was pretty much stolen from me since I spent most of my time in bed, and I have a chronic disease that will affect my daily life forever. I don’t know. I guess that messes people up.
Anywho, the Wellbutrin made me worse. Deeper and darker depressive episodes, mood swings that didn’t get better, and suicide became a very appealing companion. Not that I got to the point of holding 30 pills in my hand, but every day I just thought about how much better life would be if I….you know…didn’t have to actually live it.
While I’m sliding back into total emotional despondency, my body decides to finally kick things into gear. Physically I saw major health shifts this month. My energy increased so much that I stopped talking about spoons altogether. Spoons for days, I tell ya! (Ok not really. But more than I was used to having.)
Also, my brother got married! My sister in law has severe endometriosis too (crazy coincidence), so we are the salad girls at family dinner parties. I remember when they started dating and we would go to dinner and I learned about how limited her diet was. “Salad – no dressing, with chicken cooked with no butter or oil.” I would tell her – thank God that isn’t me! How could I live on a restricted diet?!?! Then I would blissfully eat my cheese and bread.
Well played Universe. Well played.
Since my spoon production had increased, I was able to enjoy the entire wedding weekend with my family, and I wasn’t too sick or fatigued. They got married at Duchman Winery in Driftwood, and my mom rented a house for the entire fam in Wimberley for the weekend. My dear friend from NYC flew in for the affair, and all of us spent the majority of the time sunning by the pool with drinks in our hands. It was such a welcome respite from my terrible year.
Oh, I also had a third surgery this month. I really love yoga and my practice includes going to the studio about 3-4 per week. You would think that would be a really helpful thing for me to continue doing while I’m going through this awful time, right? Wrong. Once again, my body gives me the middle finger.
I hadn’t been able to put any weight on my right wrist since January (which meant no yoga), and after all the endo surgeries were done I visited an orthopedic surgeon to see what was up. Turns out the pain was caused by a ganglion cyst that ended up being quite the little asshole. Surgery and physical therapy? For a cyst? Fine. Turns out I had a super fun physical therapist (she’s a Jew AND from Montreal – 2 things I love) so I really looked forward to my appointments. And I’ll be able to do yoga again in January 2015 after having to take a year off – yippeeeeee! How I’ve missed you, Big.