Not Depressed!

TW: depression, ptsd, gendered reproductive medical stuffs, disordered eating.

 

A funny thing happened yesterday. As usual, because I went to bed at like 9pm on Monday, I was bright-eyed awake at 4am, ready for the alarm that hasn’t gone off at that time in over three years. As usual, I got my meds, switched my bottle of drink for a cold one, put my (ever wonderful Skyla) heat pack back on the charger (no wheat, no rash!), and crawled back into bed with my game, until I napped a few more hours. My sleep schedule is still twisted from preparing for the disability interview that wasn’t, so on top of everything was a not-quite-rested right fog.

 

Tuesdays are a weird animal, because I have to factor in an hour for panic attacks, in between warming up, outside-dressing, planning how to get new meds with minimum judgment (I have so many doctors’ appointments that I have a scheduled day for them, and someone always goes “you should see a doctor!” no, really?), where to park and can I afford to pay for parking, what else could possibly happen…

I already know that if I’ve had a few days of silence and then music happens it’s a rather significant improvement. This wasn’t that. This was like, as if, a cloud had gone.

 

Today, I had to drag myself out of bed, because I was expected to participate in an RL ritual involving opening gifts only when the person who gave them to you is right there.

But then, I had to have a shower, because it’s easier to throw up in the shower with water right in that one spot on my back where it doesn’t echo and send electricity spiking up to my head. The dreaded pad, which I have not been without for three months, was clean. IT WAS CLEAN!

 

No wonder it just magically stopped, like a wall had come down between that and this. Nothing else has changed; I’m still carrying a few kilograms of bloaty tender water weight, there’s a lot of discharge where there shouldn’t be, I still have a constant migraine instead of a partial one, I’m still back in the weird eating thing with comfort food that corresponds with aforementioned throwing up. But yesterday I bought organic corn! Organic cauliflower!

 

This had better never happen again. Ever. Ever.  Technically, there should only be one more time, when it all comes out and I never have to go through this again. Ever.

 

But, you know, “it’s not in [my] best interest because [I] might get osteoporosis in thirty years”. I don’t know how much more in my best interest it can be if there’s a direct physical link to uncharacteristic depressive episodes, brutal migraines, abdominal pain, and dysphoria.

 

That’s all for today. Apparently, I’m also required to have cake. Ew.

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