Brave

I haven't wanted to write this, because I haven't wanted it to be real. While this new medication I've been on for the last month has helped with some of the lowest lows, it has also made me incredibly anxious and emotional. I cry for hours every day and worry incessantly about everything. What if Kyle gets sick of my crazy and decides not to come home to me after work one day? What if he dies in a car accident on the way home? What if one of my kids chokes or stops breathing or gets kidnapped in the night? What if my doctor stops believing me or thinks this isn't real or tells me I need to find a new doctor? What if everyone I love stops caring about me and I'm left all alone? What if this medication never helps and there is nothing out there to make me better? And then I worry that if I tell someone all of these things, they will feel burdened or think I'm exaggerating or stop loving me.

This is day in and day out for the last couple of weeks, except for a few good hours. It's exhausting and irrational. Sometimes I can see how irrational it is, but that still doesn't take away my racing heart and shaking legs and tightening throat. So I cry, mostly alone, and wonder where and when I will find peace.

Right now, we're sticking with this same medication, trying to be patient to give it the best shot at working, and desperately praying for better days to come. There have to be better days ahead.