It looks like I’m sliding into crying all the time again. Friday at work I started crying because of a work conference I had decided not to go to because I was scared I would get a migraine. I went down to the Parkade, thinking I would cry in the backseat of my car, but I forgot my car keys. By this time I was already crying hard, so I didn’t want to go back upstairs to get them. I called the employee assistance program, thinking that maybe there was an off chance that they would have an opening for a counselling appointment. They didn’t, but the gal who answered the phone thought that I sounded so upset that she patched me through to a social worker who was on crisis duty. He was very nice, and said that he could barely understand me between the echo of the Parkade and how hard I was crying. He recommended that I just give up and go home, and give work another try on Monday.
So Saturday I was OK. I did some laundry, and some dishes, and cleaned the bathroom, and I totally thought to myself that if I didn’t have a migraine on Sunday, I could wash my make up brushes and do a bunch of things that were sort of on my to do list but not really urgent. Of course I had a migraine on Sunday, so that was the end of that.
The migraine extended into yesterday, so I ended up not getting into work until 11 and then leaving at 4:30. That’s totally more like half a day then a day, but if I stay there I would’ve just been physically there but unproductive.
So that brings us to today, where I went to the hospital for ketamine. I started crying after the infusion had begun, and I can’t even really point to a specific reason. I just felt desolate, and kept thinking of poems like
Come to me in my dreams, and then by day I shall be well again.
For so the night will more than pay the hopeless longing of the day.
And then I got upset about thinking how the day was filled with hopeless longing. I guess about halfway through the infusion I started to feel better, in the sense that you read about ketamine being used for really acute depression, and then manage to have a bit of a nap afterwards. Then I headed to my psychiatrist, where I started crying basically right away and explained to him that it was one thing to not be able to go to a work conference, but that I didn’t even get to wash my make up brushes, boo-hoo hoo.
So he increased my meds and gave me a prescription. I took the bus to the pharmacy to find out that they had to order one of the drugs in, so then I took an Uber home and had a shower, because by that time I was just feeling red-faced and wrung out. Then I headed into work, not getting there until 2:30 and leaving at 7 because a colossal thunderstorm started and I was worried that I was going to be having trouble driving if I waited much longer.
So now here we are, I’m heading into the middle of the week and I don’t feel like I have any of my shit together at all. My skin is horrible, with huge fucking zits because I’ve been eating chocolate and cornflakes with sugar and not much else. I had bought some pierogies, and I think the sour cream I bought to go with them is expired. Because apparently boiling water to put perogies in is too much cooking for me to manage. So that’s pretty pathetic. I think that I should buy some bag salads or something, but I don’t feel like fucking bag salads. I feel like cinnamon toast with warm milk, and candy bars, and waffles with syrup, and always comforting high carb things.
Anyway, I’m not really feeling too hopeful at the moment. My brain has all kinds of drugs being thrown on it, and it just devoured them all and then shit kicks my neurotransmitters anyway. I’m still averaging 2/3 of my time with migraines, which is depressing in and of itself. At least I have a counselling appointment for this Friday, only two days away.