Good Tries

Have I mentioned therapy didn't work?

I don't feel like a zombie on acid so much today.

I've received some good advice about this situation and though the verdict seems to be leaning toward giving it some more time, I'm probably going to quit the Zoloft. I just can't imagine another couple of weeks of feeling like that while I wait to get used to it. I couldn't even function at work yesterday. There was a constant buzzing in my head and it felt like my stomach was vibrating. The worst part was that I felt really fucked up. Like, the way you strive to feel as a teenager on a boring Friday night with your friends. But I felt guilty, like I had gotten high and came to work. I kept having to remind myself that this shit was PRESCRIBED. I'm supposed to take it. I thought that taking something would make me feel normal, not drugged. If anything I think I will try a half a pill, and maybe take it at night for a while.

While googling Zoloft and its side effects last night (while waiting for the vibrating in my brain to stop) I came across a web site where crazy people take various combinations of drugs for their own enjoyment and document their effects. One person took Zoloft, cocaine, Effexor, ecstasy and alcohol all in one night. They summed the whole experience up with saying they would never do Zoloft again because they didn't like the side effects.
Out of all that shit, the Zoloft is what bothered them.

Yup. Sounds about right.

Zoloft induced ramblings

I asked my doctor for an anti-anxiety medication.
She prescribed Zoloft.
Today was my first day on it.
She said I wouldn't feel the effects for a couple weeks and to "give the drug a chance to work".
It's the lowest dose prescribed.

The last time I felt this spaced out was when I was 16 and in my "experimental phase"... minus the pink and green swirlies.

Yeah. It's that bad.

I don't think I'll be taking it again tomorrow.
I give up. Am I doomed to live a life of panic?

Any suggestions?

The biggest boob at the table was me

I guess the PMS that was in denial the past couple days finally caught up with me.

During my lunch break today I kind of almost flipped out on my coworkers.
Somehow the discussion centered around breast augmentation (which I am firmly against). There are a lot of things that I can take the I would never do it but whatever people want is their own business approach, but today my PMS just wouldn't have it. After I said something to the effect of, I don't want my daughter growing up in a world where her body is expected to look a certain way in order to be accepted, my friend and coworker states, "I'm not having daughters."
I shriek retort, "You'll get what God gives you and you'll be grateful!"
But she's insistent. "I only want boys."
I give up my vocal tirade but inside I'm seething.
This person is my friend, she knows what I've been through, even my most recent debacle. How could she be so insensitive? Doesn't she know how grateful I would be to hold on to a pregnancy for more than 5 days, let alone have the luxury to prefer a sex? I prefer a live baby, that's about as choosy as I can be these days.
So, as I'm sitting at my desk with my head in my hands, I realize I'm being a big stupid idiot.
I'm pissed at her because she hasn't gone through my pregnancy struggles. She still has that innocence that comes with never having a miscarriage or trouble getting pregnant and I'm mad about it.
And that sucks.
It's like stubbing your toe and then kicking the person next to you just because you're in pain and damn it, they should be too, walking around without a care in the world...
I don't want to be that person. It's not her fault.

I might never have to figure out a creative way to show my husband a positive pregnancy test, or think about baby names at 5 weeks pregnant but some women can, so let them enjoy it.

Fake boobs and all.

Hot pink disappointment

Well I really crapped out on my to-do list. Especially #4.

Two months later, and it's more of the same.
Two weeks ago I warned my husband to "be careful", as we're not trying to conceive right now.
He forgot.
9 days later I started testing and so begins the careful examinations of peed-on plastic. True to form, the faint positives appeared, but untrue to form, they actually got darker. And by 14 dpo that line was hot pink and very encouraging. I actually began thinking that this may just work out this time. I called my gyno to schedule a beta and a progesterone test (I've been taking suppositories).
As I waited to get my blood drawn yesterday I overheard two pregnant ladies complaining about not being able to smoke because it would mess up their blood test. Finally one of them stood up and waddled out, stating she didn't "give a shit" she needed a Newport.
It was truly enjoyable watching her enjoy a cig while I sat anxiously wondering if my umpteenth positive pregnancy test might actually result in a live baby. But I digress.

That night I got my period and cried for a good two hours into a well deserved glass of whiskey.
Today I got the results back from my pointless bloodwork.
Negative on the pregnancy jazz (duh) and my progesterone was a whopping 1.3. The nurse goes on to tell me that with numbers like that, it's pretty impossible that I ovulated at all this month, let alone got pregnant.
I tell her about the 6 positive tests I have and offer to show her. She says it would be very unlikely that I was ever pregnant and she has no clue what caused the positives. She also said that it looks as though 25 mg of progesterone are not enough for me but to prescribe more would entail a referral to a specialist which insurance may or may not cover.
A little googling let me know that unless I have a rare form of uterine cancer, or my pee cup was tainted with laundry soap, false positives are extremely rare. Especially from 3 different brands.
So there you go. It's my personal belief that it was another chemical but as time has proven, I don't know shit.

Thanks body. No more expensive organic fruit for you.

10 things I really want to start doing

1. Actually go to yoga class regularly
2. Eliminate processed sugar
3. Stop being angry when I hear that a woman I know is about an hour pregnant and has already told her kids, her whole family, bought the crib, named the kid and painted the f*cking nursery without a care in the world
4. Really try to write good posts
5. Drink less on weekdays
6. Drink more on weekends
7. Accept the fact that I am not going to have a heart attack and stop panicking about that several times a day
8. Be more attentive to my husband. (He's ridiculously patient with me and deals with my bullshit on a daily basis and really deserves a medal for not smacking me in the face like Cher in "Moonstruck" screaming "Snap out of it!")
9. Make it a point to see my nephew regularly
10. Get on my treadmill every single damn day

Watching the Vanimal

Just came back from babysitting my 9 month old nephew Van.
He does this weird thing where he laughs so hard his lip quivers. Kind of like it does when he's crying. Kind of puzzling. Never the less, the kid survived 5 hours with inexperienced Aunt Cassie. I discovered he loves the sound of snorting like a pig and my rendition of Jingle Bell Rock. Yeah I know it's February.
I smell like spit-up but it was worth it.

In other news, therapy went well. I thought it would be more hard core talking about painful subjects but it wasn't. She asked me a bunch of questions about my family and past but spent the rest of the hour teaching me an affirmation sequence for when I get anxious. It involves a series of tapping and repeating phrases in my head.

We'll see what she has in store for this week.

Expensive Ears

I did it.
I finally made an appointment to speak to a therapist. My anxiety is not getting any better and my husband can't be confined to our home at all times so...something has to be done.
I'm a little nervous about what will transpire but Danny assures me there will be no lying on couches and talking about my father. At least not right away.
I came to the conclusion that this has to happen when I found myself seriously considering asking my family doctor AKA Dr.Dummy - you remember her from such quotes as "two miscarriages, not that big a deal" and my personal favorite "I don't see how hormones have anything to do with heart palpitations" - for some anti anxiety meds. I don't condemn people who take medication, don't get me wrong. I just shy away from that if I haven't tried everything else possible. If therapy doesn't help I would seriously consider taking something.
But for now, Wednesday I will spill my guts to qualified ears for 100$ an hour.

This better work.

Trina & Tattoos

So I bought a used treadmill from an elderly couple last week.
She's seen better days but I'm proud to say that I've been on that thing every night since I got it.
I slap on the ipod, set the timer and get going. I actually do a lot of good thinking on her. (Yes I dubbed her a female and her name is Trina) However, it's kind of disorienting whenever I get off. Suddenly things are moving past me when I walk instead of staying still. Weird.
Dan has been researching cruises lately and is hoping we can go in early March.
I have been researching a tattoo and am hoping to get one next weekend.
To each his her own.

My dear faithful readers (both of you):
It's been too long indeed.

Allow me to explain.
I recently came to a shocking conclusion, after much soul searching, that I do not want to have a baby.
Not now or any time soon.

Stay with me now.

It seems, somewhere along the way, I've gotten a little lost. My anxiety has taken over and I have let it affect my life. I used to be someone who thrived on my independence and now I'm someone who begs my husband not to run to the store because I'm scared to be in the house alone. My heart palpitations terrify me but are most likely caused by a combination of my anxiety and lack of exercise. However, every time I experience one I am certain I am dying. Certain of it. Completely sure that at the age of 27, I am about to die of a heart attack. Panic ensues, heart palpitations worsen... you get the idea. My weight ballooned to the heaviest I've ever been and my body has retorted by making me a hormonal bitch.
I was looking at pregnancy as a fix.
My inner dialogue went a little like this:
I don't need to focus on getting better mentally, I can focus on getting pregnant!
I don't need to lose weight, I'll just get pregnant!
I don't need to work on my marriage, I'll just get pregnant and we'll focus on that! Then the baby will be here and we won't have time to argue!
Not good.

I am simply not ready.
So even though this blog was created with the idea of documenting my experiences with miscarriage and my subsequent "good tries" I will no longer be focusing on pregnancy.
What will I be writing about?
Who the f*ck knows.
Stay tuned...

...both of you.

Whatayagonnado?

I go to gossip web sites to relax after a long day's work.
I know.
I'm sick.
But when I see movie stars complaining that they feel like a "baby factory" after giving birth to 3 healthy children in 6 years, I don't feel very relaxed. When I see knocked up 16 year old strarlets staring back at me it brings out a very bratty side of me. There's an annoying voice inside my head that whines, "No fair! She gets one?"

I don't like it.