rivka

I am exhausted and burned out.

Yesterday was a lousy day. I expected to finally get the H1N1 vaccine at work - they'd sent out an e-mail saying that all faculty and residents in the department of medicine should come to grand rounds to be vaccinated. Even if you thought you'd already had H1N1, unless you could produce proof of typing. So I showed up, only to discover that they didn't really mean faculty - they meant MDs. "I have direct patient contact with immunocompromised people," I said. "Sorry," they said. "What do you suggest that I do?" "Find the vaccine somewhere else." Gee, thanks.

Worked late. Found out some things that, although not surprising, were tiring and discouraging. Came home to discover that I had forgotten that Michael would be spending the evening at a church meeting (including the dinner hour, so I'd be feeding myself and the kids on my own), that Colin was STARVING ZOMG NO ONE FED ME ALL DAY, and that Alex was STARVING FOR ATTENTION ZOMG NO ONE PAID ATTENTION TO ME ALL DAY. Tried to get Colin down for a nap and failed. Tried to get Alex to be quiet for ten minutes so that I could nurse the baby down and failed. Lather, rinse, and repeat for the rest of the evening. Colin did a lot of extraneous crying. Alex did a lot of extraneous loud neediness.

I honestly was ready to go to bed when Alex did. But a couple of friends called who are in very stressful situations themselves and instead I was up kind of late.

Colin woke me at five this morning. I got him back to sleep, but not myself. He was up for the day at six.

I am trying to write a grant in difficult circumstances, and I also have a lot of extra burdens at home because everyone keeps being sick, and "everyone" includes our nanny and our nanny's daughter which means that my childcare has been extremely shaky. I am stretched very, very thin.

Also: I have somehow managed to lose my Prozac. I can't find the whole bottle. Both Michael and I have looked. No idea how that happened, because it's supposed to live on my desk right next to my keyboard so that it's impossible for me to forget to take it. I've been without it for... maybe a week? I can't really remember when I took it last. Somewhere in the middle of everyone-is-sick-but-me hell.

I am, unsurprisingly, symptomatic: anxious and also very short-fused. When I'm off the Prozac I get absolutely furious about things not going my way, because the consequences seem so dire. Like, the only way the world won't fall apart is if everything is under my perfect control. Fun times.

Yes, I have e-mailed my psychiatrist to ask her to call in a replacement prescription.

Not loving my life right now.

It's been two weeks since I had an anxiety attack.

I am still having occasional irrationally negative and self-critical thoughts, but no more than I ever did - I'd say that they now fall within the normal range. I haven't had to marvel at my own craziness in at least two weeks.

Probably not coincidentally, it's been two weeks since I increased my Prozac dose. It looks like I've found the right level for me. It's quite a low dose - 10mg, which is the smallest pill they make - so I'm not too worried about side effects or milk pass-through.

I go back to the psychiatrist at the end of July. From what she's said before about nursing hormones mediating my anxiety, I'm guessing that she'll want me to stay on the Prozac at least until solids start making up a significant portion of Colin's diet and/or I stop pumping. I'm okay with that.

I post this partly to encourage other people. Postpartum mental illness is treatable. Don't delay seeking help.

I don't interpret dreams, as a therapist, but sometimes even I have to admit that my subconscious is talking to me with a twenty-foot-tall neon sign. Last night I dreamed that mice infested our fridge and chewed holes in the bags of breastmilk I have stored in there. There you go: most of my current inadequacies rolled up neatly into a two-minute dream sequence. Our dirty house, our mouse problem (of which I am incredibly ashamed), pumping, Colin being okay while I'm at work...

I don't know why I've been treating this like a secret, but.

I have a postpartum anxiety disorder. It mostly manifests as intense feelings of guilt, shame, and inadequacy, with a lot of focus on other people probably thinking I'm horrible and some tendencies toward obsessive thinking.

I am in treatment, and coming up on the point where the Prozac is supposed to kick in.

Right now it's very hard for me to use my LJ. I'm pretty caught up in the inside of my head, and the last thing I want to do is write about that, but the truth is that whenever I think about posting something I picture people disapproving of me or judging me for it. So I'll post about the kids because it's a safe topic and then I'll think that most of you probably despise me for being so wrapped up in my children that I've erased my own life from my LJ, or else you think I'm a horrible mother who puts academic pressure on Alex because I posted about teaching her to read, and I could write about the new nanny but then what if she leaves like the last one did and that just proves what a failure I am and... well. You get the picture.

I feel ridiculous even saying all this but that's where things are with me right now.