Sensitive Me

I think of myself as a relatively insensitive person.  That is, I am resilient and I let a lot of things just slide off me like teflon*.  However, there are some things, sensory things, that just drive me batty. For example, here I am sitting in the studio (it’s my friend’s work space that she lets me use when it’s empty so I can have some privacy and uninterrupted work time).  I realize that I am feeling tense, and that the source of my tension is music coming in through the wall that is shared with a auto-body shop next door.  Although it would probably have to be blasting in there for me to be able to hear it, It’s not overly loud in here– I can recognize the songs though I can’t necessarily hear all the words. And it’s not the type music I hate  — it sounds like a top 40s radio station. Yet, there is something about it; the tone? the background-ness of it? The bass? That was causing me low-grade distress.

Sometimes, when I sit in the home office I share with my husband, he’ll have something playing in the background. He likes to listen to music while he works.  I can’t handle it, not even if it’s on the very lowest volume.  I simply can’t focus on whatever is in front of me. It’s different if I’m in a coffee shop or a library or a mall– places where there is a relatively uniform amount of ambient noise and familiar sounds.  But at home at night with the kids sleeping, and the only other noise being the one on his computer–  it’s so distracting.

ADD is often associated with sensitivity disorders. I hesitate to call my irritation a disorder, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s linked to the ADD.

My solution to this problem is to pull out a set of headphones and turn on an online white noise app.  His music, assuming it’s quiet enough, disappears, and I am in a Zone of My Own.  Really, it’s like being transported.  I think it’s even better for me than medication.  I’ve had very poor sleep for the past couple of nights (partly work, partly Netflix), which carries with it it’s own level of stress.  Add that to the tension I get from background music, and my stress level goes from a 2 to a 5 without my even being aware of it until I’m suffering from the symptoms.  Just now, I put on the white noise app (with a pink noise app playing on top of it for good measure) and as soon as the sound started coming out of the speakers, I felt a huge sense of relief.  It’s like my head had been in a bind and I did not even realize it until it came off.  I was all clenched up, but wasn’t even aware of the need to relax.  It’s a crazy sensation, but very satisfying.

When the bothersome background noise is done, I can turn off the white noise and get a secondary sense of relief from that.

Here  are some other things I am sensitive about:  I hate fans blowing  on me.  I don’t mind them too much if they’re the swivel kind, but I can’t stand the constant breeze on any one part of my body.  I’d rather be sweaty than have a fan pointed directly at me. On the subject of fans, I hate the way they make the light pulsate, depending on where they are positioned. I once worked in an office where the ceiling fan was positioned under the pot lights and directly above my desk. Also,  it was a windowless space I shared with about 7 other people– all of whom really really needed that fan.  Of course, I had to concede, but I always worried that I’d have a seizure.  I hate having my stomach touched. It actually makes me recoil, even if it’s my kids doing it.  That particular sensitivity started around the time of my last pregnancy, so maybe there is a physiological aspect to it.

On the other hand, I love to run fabrics between my fingers, just for the feel. Love having my hair brushed– even though it’s quit tangly, it never hurts.  I dislike shoes and love to feel the ground under my feet.  Sensitivity, I suppose, goes both ways.

Here is a link to my favorite online noise generator.  I am not getting compensated in any way for this endorsement. Just passing along a good tip.

*In no other way would I compare myself to teflon. I no longer own any more teflon or nonstick cookware except for my beloved waffle iron, and that’s on it’s way out too.

 

Featured image from pixabay.com by Pexels

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Drupdate #3

I’m giving myself 10 minutes to write this post. I’ve been sitting here in the quiet privacy of my friend’s studio but I’ve been working for hours straight… hmm… is this an indication of the drug working…?

Hard to say. That seems to be my theme when it comes to medication.

So in my last post– rather, the one before last  I mentioned that I was going to try taking the meds consistently for two weeks. I think I’ll just do this in bullet form, for the sake of brevity and also bc these Drupdates are really just logs.

Sunday, May 14 – ON I think. I hosted a huge party.  Like, 100 ppl. But these things are old hat for me now.

Monday, May 15 – ON.  I get mad at DH when he reminds me to take my pill. It’s a sore point. I think he thinks it’s much more effective than it really is. He was working from home, which I find to be difficult.

Tuesday, May 16- ON. Really hard to work with hubby home. Tried to get through ‘desk pile’. Didn’t get through much. I think I might have started work on my brochure this day…

Wednesday, May 17 – ON. Midday meeting. Put in lots of time at my desk in the morning and then wasted the rest of the day at the mall, where the meeting was. Sometimes you just need to get out.

Thursday, May 18 – ON.  Yoga, dentist, worked on brochure.  I think I took it after Yoga… I think. Incidentally, I had a filling without anesthesia. Are you impressed? I am.

Friday, May 19 – ON. Grocery shopping and frenzied cooking in between three different school pickups. I was hoping to get some work done but instead made 70+ pieces of schnitzel. I did get some feedback from friends on the brochures I’d been preparing.  I wrote it all down in the grocery store on the notebook I keep in my purse.  Schnitzel is a LOT Of work, so when I do it. I just do a lot.  Also I had to prepare extra for a friend who had a baby. It was my turn to bring dinner. I had the same experience as I did last time— that I couldn’t figure out how to spice the food properly. I think that my schnitzels were not quite as good this time. It’s really hard to cook when your appetite is suppressed.  I rely on instinct but that part of the brain is suppressed as well. I wonder if it’s actually NOT connected to appetite suppression, but more to impulse control??? This is definitely something to explore.

Saturday, May 20 – OFF.  Lots of reading, some cleaning.

Sunday, May 21 – ON. Pretty sure.  It was a rainy day.  Woke up late, watched some TV with the kids, bought gardening supplies, went shopping for reno supplies but everything was closed. Went swimming. Ate Mac N Cheese

Monday, May 22 – OFF. I’m pretty sure.  I was out all day on a long-weekend excursion and didn’t feel like I needed them.  Which I realize is besides the point because I’m going for consistency here.

Tuesday, May 23 – ON.  Spent all day in waiting rooms, tried to read some work material but there were too many stops and starts and people to look after and pay attention to.

Wednesday, May 24 – ON.  Took late– about noon. Spent all afternoon at studio, finishing the brochures.  What a lot of work they’ve been, but I enjoy it.

C(K)eeping Up With The Concertas

I saw my new shrink last week.  She was nice, friendly, positive, and generally affirmative (affirmational? She affirmed what I said) but, as she pointed out before we even sat down, it was a bit of a mismatch.  She deals with palliative care patients, and not at all with ADD.  She was only handed my file* because they needed people to take over for my regular shrink, who is now on maternity leave.

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Not My Shrink.                         …ok now tear your eyes away and go back to the blog post…

I was a bit disappointed because I had been imagining this new doctor-patient relationship as the one that would complete me, mental health-wise.  Alas.  I need a Tinder for psychiatrists.

She asked me, at one point, probably because I was rambling at high speed and holding a Grande Pike Place, whether I was self-medicating with coffee. I am not, and I told her as much. I usually have one coffee in the morning and one, if I am desperate to stay awake, around the kid’s bedtime.

She also told me, as my last shrink told me, and probably everyone in the medical profession will tell me, that I need to get on the meds and just stay on them if I want to have a good idea of whether or not they’re having any effect. As you may recall, this is one of the great questions that surround my decision to medicate.

Since taking them intermittently, as I have been doing (sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally)  for more than a year, is not a viable option for me at this point, I have a problem.  Even if I ‘set an alarm on my phone’  (which everyone thinks is the answer to everything ADD), taking them on a regular basis has proven to be much more difficult  than it would seem.  It’s not that I don’t remember to take them. It’s that if I remember, and I am not seated at my desk (where I keep the bottle) or in a position to get the ‘travel pack’ out of my purse immediately, then the task will get put on an indefinite ‘snooze.’

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The Elusive Travel Pack              Writing About it made me remember to refill it!

At the behest of Dr. Affirmational, I decided to try once again. She asked if I could commit to two weeks straight and I told her, without much confidence, that I would surely try.  My appointment was on a Thursday, and I decided that the following Monday would be my first day. I took a pill on Monday. I took one on Tuesday. I took one on Wednesday. I forgot them on Thursday and Friday and then didn’t bother over the weekend.

Correction: I did not forget them on Thursday and Friday, Rather, I remembered on Thursday but I was in the car, driving. And I remembered on Friday but I was in the supermarket, and I  was in a rush to get out.

Today is Monday, the start of a fresh new week.  I took one this morning. It made me jittery after an hour. I calmed down. I am finishing my blog post that I’ve been meaning to write for 11 days.  Thanks to the shakes, I know it’s having an effect on me, but I don’t know if it’s actually fulfilling the intended purpose.  Hopefully, if I can keep up with the Concertas,  I’ll be able to tell you in two weeks. Wish me luck.

 

*Interestingly, she was actually NOT handed my file.  So most of my visit consisted of me recounting all the things I do and the things I don’t get around to doing and how I feel about it all. What else would we have talked about, really?

The Med Factor: Dinner Is Served

We do a lot of hosting at our house, and that means a lot of cooking for me.  I don’t particularly like cooking, but apparently I’m not half bad at it. Rather, I am half bad at it but the half that’s not completely burnt, over-boiled, or otherwise wasted due to negligence usually tastes pretty good, I’m told.

I always joke that most husbands, when they get in the door, call out ‘Honey, I”m home!’ My husband will walk in and automatically call out “Babe, what’s burning?”

Actually, that’s not a joke at all. He says that every single time he comes in the house.  Of course, with the fire alarm blasting (mine speaks English and French: FIRE! FEU! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. FIRE! FEU! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. And sometimes CARBON MONOXIDE! MONOXYDE DE CARBONE! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.) and the kids fighting over the chance to stand on a chair with the broomstick (which we keep against the wall for this exact purpose) and stab the darn thing into silence on it’s elusive sweet spot (HUSH MODE ACTIVATEDMODE HUSH ACTIVÉ), there is no denying what I’ve been up to. Here’s another joke, but not: How do you know when it’s dinner time at my house? 

dinner_will_be_ready
Too obvious?

But I digress…

It’s not entirely accurate that I don’t like cooking. It’s true that I’d rather be…  dunno… writing, reading, hiking, not cooking etc. but I like cooking better than, say, washing dishes or bringing the trash cans in from the curb. Cooking is a chore but not the worst chore. The part I really don’t like is cleaning.  Cooking means cleaning;  it’s inevitable. And when you cook in a mad, hyperfocused frenzy like I do, the mess gets bigger and bigger throughout the process until it almost takes over the counter entirely., and sometimes the floor.  Peelings, wrappers, dirty dishes… I hate them all.  I can cook a four course meal (soup, sides, salads– yes, all plural–  and main) in under two hours but the kitchen is positively ravaged when I’m done.

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Not my kitchen, but close.

I never make desert, though.  Guests are responsible for bringing desert, or else I cut up fruit after I serve the main course when things have calmed down a bit.  I almost never bake. I hate it, and I am terrible at it. When you bake you need to be so careful about measuring and having just the right ingredient  and other dull and unnecessarily uptight details.  And it makes so much more mess.  Not worth it.

When I cook it’s a largely spontaneous experience and always experimental, like an art piece.  I know roughly what I’m making because I shopped for it that morning and it’s in the fridge waiting. But I never know exactly whether the ground beef is going to be meatballs, patties, bolognaise sauce, or lasagna until I start cooking. Herbed? Sweet n’ sour?  You just never know. I might consult a recipe for inspiration, but then I always revert to whatever I think is more fitting or (let’s be honest) whatever method will result in fewer dirty pans.  I have a lot of spices, and I’ve developed a feel for how to make them my own, and how much I can tweak a recipe before it turns the corner from home or exciting  to meh.

Last week I was on the meds while cooking. I’d had a lot to do that day and cooking was just one of the items on the agenda, albeit a large item.  I started cooking earlier than I normally would, which is maybe evidence of the medication serving it’s intended purpose. The meds were still in full effect and my appetite was pretty suppressed.

All of a sudden I realized that I had no idea what spices to use in the dish I was making.  I scanned my spice rack, waiting for the right ones to pop out at me as they usually do, but they all looked the same– bland.  I had to really stop and think about it in a logical fashion; What might taste good in this meat? Cinnamon? No that’s Middle Eastern and not what I’m going for. Garlic? Well yes, obviously but… oregano? Yes, that sounds Italian..  I think I’m going for ‘Italian’…

It may not sound like a big deal, but the experience was  it was kind of freaky and unsettling for me.   I didn’t have any precedent for this kind of feeling, and I was unsure of how to handle it at first.  Imagine trying to paint a ladybug,  looking at a palette of paint colours and not having any point of reference for which puddle to dip your brush into.  You know it should be obvious, but the answer is somehow eluding you, like in a dream.

Well, I’ve been cooking dinners for over a decade now and my inference, if not my instinct, kicked in.  I know ladybugs are red, and so I dipped my  brush into the puddle labeled ‘red’.  I made the food. It wasn’t artistic, but it was good, they tell me.  Essentially, it was formulaic, like baking.

What an unexpected side effect for ADD / ADHD medication;  Regular function might be impaired due to lack of appetite.  More accurately, it was a side effect of a side effect.  I wonder what other side of side effects I’m experiencing that I haven’t yet noticed.  Sometimes I wonder if there are any effects at all.

Before I sign off, I want to include another story about food and my husband, just to redeem his reputation in case you think, based on this post, that he is overly harsh or critical.

When we were engaged, and this was way back before I became the gourmet chef that I am today, it was pumpkin season, and I was taken with the notion of making pumpkin soup.  Working from my gut, I brought the pumpkin home, baked it, peeled it, pureed it, and spiced it, and then served it to my fiancee and a friend of mine for dinner that night. The soup was horrible and not at all what I’d intended.  I couldn’t eat it and neither could my friend. But my darling man tasted it, said “It’s not that bad, maybe I’ll just put some humus in it.” Yes, he ate the whole bowl with humus in it. And that is why I love him.

Notice: No ladybugs were harmed or ingested in the writing of this blog post or ever, really, by the author, to the best of her knowledge.

Drive Inspired

I had a phone call the other day from what I guess I’d call a friend-once-removed (an FOR), by which I mean she is a person who is friends with another friend of mine, and who, consequently,  I see several times a year but don’t really have anything else to do with. I like her fine.  I’m just not particularly close with her. An FOR.

Although I was initially surprised to hear from her, her motives became clear as soon as she said the words ‘hoping you can help me with a little venture I’m working on.’ My suspicions were confirmed when her schpiel ended with ‘can I meet you for coffee?’

I asked:

“Is this Arbonne?”

It was.

Who has a great skin care routine? THIS GUY!
Aaaay. Who has a great skin care routine? THIS GUY!

Arbonne is a line of products whose marketing scheme is word-of-mouth and rhymes with “Fonzie.”

“I’m not buying anything– you should know.” I didn’t want to mislead her, though clearly she was trying to mislead me  by making it sound like she cared for my actual companionship.

It’s fine, she told me. Even if I didn’t buy anything I’d still be helping her firm up her pitch and it would be good practice. I was being asked to help. I was flattered. We made a date.

I don’t necessarily disrespect people who choose to chase the dream and make ‘a little money in their spare time,’  as it were.  In fact, I was totally impressed by FOR’s verve , get-go, drive, or whatever you want to call it.  It takes some serious cajones to call people out of the blue when you barely know them and try to get them to open their hearts, schedules, and wallets to you.  Of course, it makes it easier if you’ve already destroyed relationships with all your original friends, but it’s all worth it, I think, when the Arbonne people show up at your door with a thank-you gift in the form of a white Mercedes. No, really, they promise you a Benz if you sell enough body lotion and shampoo.  Whooooa. Happy days!

I was trying to avoid sarcasm in this post and now look at me.  I blame the Fonz but the Fonz doesn’t care. Aaaaay!

So I met with this FOR at one afternoon at a popular coffee place which I will not name but rhymes with Spar… Bucks…  and I brought my Little One, who happened to have a day off.  He was excited for the hot chocolate aspect of the meeting, and I was excited to do my friend of a friend a good turn as she began her journey to purported financial freedom.

I should mention that I’ve already been accosted by friends in the past who got on the Arbonne train. In fact, I’d won an entire gift basket worth of merchandise from a trade show and through some internal political hierarchies having to do with geography and/or nepotism, the person assigned to my followup telephone call was a girl not-removed from me, but an actual friend. An actual friend that I had to listen to as she rambled on about the products for fifty minutes until I managed to find some reason to excuse myself from the conversation.  So I know a little bit about Arbonne. I’m still friends with that girl, by the way, but we’ve never ever spoken about what I’ve come to think of as The Horrible Arbonne Incident.

I scheduled FOR’s coffee date for the end of the school day just in case it… uh… didn’t have a natural end.  I figured 45 minutes was enough time for her to practice her shpiel, drink a coffee, try some products, and get out.  To make a long story short, I learned about Arbonne all over again, even though I told her, in nicer terms, about my previous education in the same department.  I had the complete presentation including power point, demo booklet, and a little trial kit of toiletries — six products!! — that I was meant to use daily and return to her after three days. Six products? I feel proud if I have the energy to brush my teeth at the end of the day!  I can’t even remember to take my ADD meds three day in a row!

Of course, I ended up taking it all home in a tote bag embossed with enormous company logos. I somehow followed the skincare routine for three full days (though I used up the little squirt of night cream on DD’s dry hands when we couldn’t find her regular lotion).  I even met her on the morning of day 4, though I forgot the tote bag which I’ll have to get to her at a later date.  I did not remember to take my pills during this time.

To add insult to injury, turns out the FOR is not new to Arbonne. She did not need to practice her pitch on me because she has been doing it for over two years. My efforts at do-goodism were for naught.  I’m such a sucker.

But I digress.

Seeing FOR in action, even though the action was being taken against me, in a way, was somehow inspiring.  The girl has a goal: to supplement her income (which I would describe as steady but limited). She has a means: The Fonz. She has a market: Other FOR. She has a modus operandi: Call, cajole, coffee, call again. And she does it. It sounds easy, but know how difficult it can be to tear oneself away from a good game of candy crush and make even a single sales call.  I know it’s hard to put oneself out there and present oneself with confidence, even if you believe that the rewards are great and have optional seat warmers.

So even though I don’t think I’ll be peddling beauty products anytime soon, I can take a lesson from my FOR and push myself to write one more blog post or send out that promo package.

Because as she, and so many zombie-like and  glowy-cheeked Benz hopefuls before her remind us:  Don’t think “what if it doesn’t work?” Think “what if it does?”

 

 

 

 

Twist of Fate

When I last saw my shrink, she was apparently pregnant. She did not bring up the subject and so, according to protocol, I did not bring it up either, though her condition was quite… pronounced.

Well, in addition to ADD-dar, I apparently have preg-dar, because this week I got a call from the hospital informing me that I’d been transferred to a new doctor due to my own psychiatrist going on maternity leave.  I felt it safe to enquire if she’d actually had the baby yet– she hadn’t– and asked the caller to pass on my congratulations for when the time comes.

What my radar didn’t pick up on until just now was that her pregnancy was a graceful solution to a conundrum I’ve been avoiding.

For a while now, I’ve been debating doing a shrink-swap.  Although I am fond of my psychiatrist, I wasnt’ sure she was the best one for my specific needs. I want someone with experience in my specific area — Adult ADD– and I felt, at times, like she was winging it a little bit.  I mean, I’ve been on this road towards intentional correction for close to two years now — or more?  But I am still not 100% sure of my diagnosis.

The appointment they offered me with the new doctor is still two months away.  I guess that lack of availability is one strike against her.  Still, I’m in no rush. I haven’t been updating, but I also haven’t really been taking my medication for over a month now. I took it today for the first time in ages.  The only definite effect was hunger pangs at about 4:00.

If I am brave and strong and play my cards right then this can turn out very well. I tried e-stalking the new doctor, but there isn’t too much online about her, at least on the first couple of google pages.  I’d asked the administrator about her when she called to set up the appointment. I learned that she’s not new; she’s been around for many years. Well, that’s something.  And if I realize that she is not for me, I will be bolder this time and ask to be re-referred. I will.

P.S. If you scroll up and down over the square in the image on top of this post, you’ll see why the two doctor characters are doing the twist.

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I saw my Shrink again last week, and here’s what I had to report:

When I first got this new round of prescription after our last appointment and  I started taking the medication,  it was the week before winter break.  I took it the first day and the second day, but on the third day I felt all cloudy and disoriented.  I think I skipped that day– or the next.  I had started a list so that I could keep track and maybe chart the effects of the medication on my productivity– because, ultimately, increased productivity is my goal.  At least, I think I started a list. I have one attached to my pill bottle with an elastic band but it has some very random dates on it. Seems I haven’t been keeping track very well.

Strike one against the effectiveness of medication, I guess.

I wasn’t sure if the cloudiness was due to some side effect of the medication or a withdrawal from it.  All I knew is that I was barely functional. I could hardly prepare school lunches– something that is usually rote for me and doesn’t require a whole lot of thinking (though I still hate doing it and it sill takes me waaay too in the morning.)

On the other hand, i also had a cold, and this could have led to the cloudy feeling as well. Coffee helped. Napping too, though how much of an opportunity do I really get for that?

For me, the problem with being in a fog goes even deeper than zombie-like, purposeless wandering.  It reinforces a deep fear of mine, which is that I will become dependent on meds in the way that people are dependent on glasses, or that they will permanently dull that region of my brain because I’m not using the muscle behind it.

I decided at some point that week–  I believe I’d had 3 out of 5 of the intended doses, to postpone the big experiment until after winter break.  I still had work to do in the intervening weeks– I was preparing for a new business initiative I’m hoping to get off the ground, not to mention all of my regular duties.  But I didn’t want to do this medication thing haphazardly– because then what would be the point? I want to know if the stuff is working and if it’s worth all the soul searching and departure from my long-standing resistance to medication. As I had discussed with the shrink at or last encounter, I need to stick it it consistently for long enough to figure out whether it’s worth sticking with at all.

I started taking the medication regularly – Concerta– when the kids went back to school after winter break when my routine, theoretically resumed.

As I mentioned above, I am working on a new program that I hope I can develop in to a business.  I am hesitant to mention it here or even tell people around me about it because it seems that every few months I embark on a new project with great enthusiasm, and sometimes at great expense or personal investment, only to abandon it a little while later — always with a different excuse ultimately forming a pattern of failure associated with ADHD. I guess it’s important that I keep trying to find success– but the process can be disheartening.

In this case, however, I gave myself a deadline. I set up a date to present my project to a local organization, and that date was last week.  Even though I so far have only that date and two subsequent ones (it’s a series) booked at the same venue, I put a ton of work into it, hoping that the investment will pay off with further bookings and that, by the end, I’d have a program I could market more broadly.

As it happened, my weekly ‘protected time’– the one day each  that I arranged with my husband would be my own time to work on my own projects without interruption when he’s responsible for picking up the kids and being with them late into the evenings–  got compromised the first week after winter break because of a job-related commitment that there was no way for him to get out of. I tried to put in time that day anyway, but then my DS called home sick from school , so that day got cut short.

On the second week’s protected time, DH was desperate for me to help him out with a few projects that he regularly relies on me for, and they also really couldn’t wait. So last week I also lost a good half day from my protected time. I did manage to get a lot done in the late afternoon and evening, however, so it wasn’t a total loss.

Throughout the past two weeks I have been taking my meds pretty faithfully. One exception was last Thursday when I did my presentation. I find that the medication can make me shaky, depending on what other elements are happening (whether I’ve eaten, slept well, etc) and just today I noticed that they actually make me a little emotional the way that Adderol did– not to the point of being crazy, but enough to cry over some sad and/or heartwarming articles I read during my brain-warm up this morning (aka acceptable procrastination time– but that’s another blog post for another time.)

I guess that the pattern I’ve found so far with these meds is that the benifit– the drive– that is (most likely) supplied by the meds, is accompanied by a degree of stress. With this med it is to a lesser degree than the last, though I don’t remember feeling it at all before last week. I wonder if it has to do with the fact that they say it can take several weeks to start working.  Is it going to get worse now? Or is this as bad as it gets, because I can handle it at this level.

There was also another day the week before that I forgot or neglected to take the meds.  Let’s say I took them for 8 our of the 10 intended days.  I was supposed to only take a break from them on Saturdays but I haven’t been taking on Sundays either.

For me,  a deadline is the best motivation to get working, and I really pushed myself to get all everything done on time, and done well. It’s hard to say whether the pills were working or not, but I felt very motivated, and I spent a lot less time ‘getting into’ the work, and a lot more time actually working on it.  When I got distracted, it was a lot easier for me to get back on track, whereas sometimes it can take me half an hour or more to ease back  in.

Also, this is work that I really love to do, and I know that I’m good at it because I have done it for years, though not lately. So again– hard to say if it’s because of the drugs.

My program went well, though I only got through about half of the materials we’d prepared. I thought the participants really enjoyed it and that it got their wheels spinning. I’ll find out when I get back the evaluations.

After telling the doctor all this, I was surprised to hear her say that she was concerned about the fact that I was feeling cloudy.  The meds are supposed to make you more functional, not less, she said.  With regards to that, and also to my fears of long-term damage, though, she didn’t tell me to stop.  She just said again that I need to do a risk/benefit analysis.  Are the meds helping me meet my goals, overall? If so, are the risks and/or side effects tolerable?

The idea behind the medication, she reminded me, is not to provide a cure, but to provide a higher level of function.

Also, we discussed how I’m effectively doing three jobs at once if I take on this new venture.  Mothering, working the equivalent of part-time for DH, and now this.  Honestly, I don’t mind putting the work in to see if I can get this started, even if it means a couple more late nights.  Granted, it also means I’m pushing off some of the mothering stuff (nothing significant) and also some of the paperwork I’d otherwise be doing, which means it’s building up faster than usual.  I guess I’m ok with that too.

 

 

 

Badge: Fears

I think I’m getting better at these badges.

I took all the fears from my last post and put them all into one marble. Is that fair?  I listed at least five different fears.

It’s amazing how not trying to write about things really brings them to the forefront of your mind. I wasn’t thinking of fears at all in that post… until I was….

 

Badge: Tried Everything Else

I am awarding myself the ‘Tried Everything Else’ marble badge.

In a previous post I decided that I would create these badges to remind myself why I am going forward with medication. I can also create marbles that go on the other side of the scale. Think of it as a highly elaborate pros and cons list.

I think this one is self-explanatory.

Here’s the scale again:

scales

 

Still Justifying

Despite all my ramblings about how I came to the decision to start medicating, I still feel like I need to justify my decision. The featured image of this post is a set of scales.  As you can see, it’s already been tipped to reflect my decision, but it does not reveal the rationale by showing you what factors are weighing it down– mostly because I am still a little fresh at Photoshop (actually this image was crafted in MS Paint bc sometimes it’s just the easy way out) and the image started getting a bit confusing when I started adding stuff in.

By waresponsibilityy of affirmation, I will deposit one justification marble in this blog– you can also call it a badge I’m awarding myself– every time I remember one of the reasons I am sky-high on Concerta*.

This badge, Responsibility For Others, reminds me that my failures, my lack of accomplishment, my procrastinating, my difficulties in self regulation**  all have an effect on the people I love the most and for whom I have a great responsibility.  This, if you recall, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s the reason that tipped the scales.

* Ok I’m not sky high. In fact, I am not really sure if it’s having any effect on me at all.

** I’m not THAT bad.  But I could use improvement, hence the drugs.