I'm going to start this by saying I forgot my anti-anxiety meds for two days in a row (Tuesday and Wednesday evenings). That's incredibly unlike me. I'm usually QUITE good (for a spazz), missing only a day or two over the course of a month. But between a very late night return to DC from some gorgeous south Florida weather, and then snow mucking up ALL semblances of a routine, I found myself late last night 300mg behind schedule. I was surprised - usually it only takes about 12 hours for me to start feeling "off" and overly concerned about strangers, and that's when I usually catch up. But - I thought, foolishly - no harm done! Take the pill and go to bed.
So I did.
This morning, however, I was surprisingly jazzed when I got to work. I was dancing all over the office, just SO happy to see everyone (and considering that I really wanted today to be another snow day, that was weird). I even attempted to "twerk" (I am an old lady) in my fave coworker and close friend's office (we will call her CH, because her name is quite unique). CH was like whoaaaa I have not seen you like this... ever? Which is strange because we have known each other for nearly 4 years.
Brief pause for alarm at passage of time.
But who cared? I was in a GREAT mood. Bouncy bouncy bouncy fun fun fun fun fun FUN! Which, when I sat down in my chair after the twerking attempt, finally began to seem odd. WHY was I so up up UP. Sure, it's a Friday, and yes, I had had caffeine, but I don't have off Monday, there is a ridiculous amount of ice on the streets and it's not socially acceptable to drink champagne in the office. I mean, this literally happened:
Becky: awwwww
miss you!
me: i miss you too
mostly because i could smother you in my bosom right now
SMOTHERSMOTHER
Becky: HAHAHAHAA
This was around the point when I realized that, oh right, after 72 hours of completely uninhibited serontonin uptake (I think that's right), my brain was re/overadjusting to the normal state of things, which is to say, normalcy aided and abetted by Zoloft.
That was fine. Who hates the coworker who is HAPPY TO SEE YOU? No one. No one hates that person. They think that person is funny and want to have dance parties with them and maybe order lunch because of the ice on the road. Yay.
However.
People, even super wonderful parents who have raised you and love you no matter what you do unless, probably, you kill them but even then it's only because they're dead because they are your parents and lovelovelove you regardless, are NOT particularly fond of being called 14 times on their cellphone (and probably around the same amount on their house line) because their eldest child is in a neurochemically induced PANIC that her mother's not picking up the phone means she clearly slipped in the shower/on an icy patch/across newly cleaned floors. Those people might be even LESS fond of said child calling their other parent, and weaving him into their web 'o crazy such that he decides to take a long lunch to drive the 30+ minutes home to make sure she's ok. Especially when said people just forgot to take their cellphone with them to the mall and to the nail salon because aforementioned mothers may have decided to take advantage of their snow day and much-more-cleared-than-DC roads.
Hypothetically speaking.
After I apologized profusely to my mom, and slightly less profusely to my dad and then left them to have (Valentine's! Aw sweet, in the end?) lunch together, I was talking to Becky who, it should be said, recognized this for what it was IMMEDIATELY:
me: ok my mom isn't picking up and it is stressing me out
she's prob fine, right?
Becky: wow, just 2 days of anti sads later?
yes, she's fine
promise
I'm thinking of the time I was up until 3am freaking out that there was a robber/murderer/rapist/ghost in my house because my TV turned itself off and I told my friend Lauren that she would be really upset when I was robbed/murdered/raped/... passed through? because she didn't believe me. Or the time(s) I've called/texted Becky and others (will not name you all here but you know who you are) because the toilet upstairs flushed too loudly or something I leaned up against the wall fell down or because I had a vague sense of foreboding.
Or the time I wouldn't go buy a sandwich and instead sat in panicked hunger because I was sure that THIS TIME when I crossed the street I would be killed by a car. Or all the many many nights I spent driving fruitlessly around my parents' neighborhood because I was so concerned that someone had turned in behind me and so clearly they were going to rob/murder/rape/pass through me so I had to lose them in the cul-de-sacs of northern NJ. Not to mention the times I've rechecked locks 17 times, or woken up my sister just to have someone else be freaked out about X with me, and all the other examples (if you know me IRL and think it fun, feel free to share in the comments) that I can't even think about because they were so. Damn. Ordinary.
My point is this: this was a bad day, triggered by lack of meds and other anxiety-inducing factors like not having brought my lunch. But it's been SO LONG since I've had a bad day that this shamed me, rather than making me feel righteously misunderstood - "it may not be the ghost this time, but if it had been you would have felt TERRIBLE at my funeral." That's pretty awesome. Almost as awesome as SSRIs and Pete's Apizza delivery.
I mean, not quite. But almost.
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