Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Heather, interrupted

I wish that I could tell you that the reason you won’t be hearing anything from me in the next several days is because we’re right on the verge of launching the redesign. And we are, I promise, we’re right there, just a few more MT plug-ins and some tweaking on the templates and we may have a new site! But that’s not the reason.

It’s also not because Leta is really cute in her caterpillar pajamas. Or that her face smells really good.

The reason you won’t be hearing anything from me for several days is because this morning Jon is driving me up to the hospital and I’m going to check into the psychiatric ward. I am very scared that if I don’t go ahead and do this that I may experience some sort of nervous breakdown.

My anxiety has only gotten worse since I started psychiatric and medical treatment over two months ago. It’s so bad that it chokes me every day, and sometimes I can’t even walk I’m so anxious. I’ve tried over 10 different medications and each one has made my anxiety worse. The depression comes and goes, but the anxiety is constant. I can barely eat anything and I still can’t sleep, even though I’ve tried every sleeping pill available at the pharmacy. It’s seriously out of control.

Over the weekend I started a new round of medication for a new diagnosis, one that I don’t want to talk about yet because it will be such a loaded discussion, and that medication has caused all sorts of problems. I have to get all this shit figured out or I really think I’ll hurt myself. I can’t believe that I don’t feel better. I can’t believe that it’s been two months and I DON’T FEEL ANY BETTER.

I have to believe that going to the hospital is at least going to let me clear my head, or that it may actually provide an answer. I have to believe in something right now because I don’t feel like I have any hope. This anxiety is so painful, and I don’t see an end to it.

Back in March when Leta was just a little over a month old I wrote this:

“The deal is that when Leta was born all these maternal instincts were slammed into the ON position: the instinct to protect, to nourish, to comfort. And no matter where she is sleeping or pretending to sleep, whether it be in our bed, on top of me, in a bassinet beside the bed, or in her crib all the way over in her own room, I am having to re-train my body to sleep. My instincts tell me that when I sleep Unknown Things happen, and my body totally resists the urge to fall asleep. Instinctually I am listening for the sound of her breathing or to the sound of her swallowing, and if those noises sound okay then I’m listening to the sounds of the house to make sure monsters don’t come out of the walls to hurt her. I have every reason to believe that this instinct will become numb with subsequent children, but Leta is my first-born, and I have no idea how to turn it off.”

Six months later and I still can’t turn them off, or even turn them down. These instincts have turned into demons that terrorize me from the moment I get out of bed in the morning to the hours and hours that I try to sleep at night. I never have a moment of peace.

I won’t be checking my email for several days, or the internet for just as long, and I may die from the withdrawal. I wanted to tell you about this because many of you have been on this journey with me and I feel like you should know what is going on.

This is what is going on. I don’t feel better.

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