I’ve not been prone to severe anxiety or depression as an adult. (Oh just wait. Signed, Zoot of 2020.) Not of the likes I knew as a teenager, anyway. But when I get too tired? I suddenly find myself wondering if I need to seek therapy or be medicated. Exhaustion has a very bad effect on my emotional stability. I have never found myself in darker places than when I have been deprived of sleep, and last week? Deprived me of sleep to levels I’ve not known since college. In those days I self-medicated with beer and cigarettes, so it wasn’t so bad. Last week? Was much uglier. Not only was I an emotional basket case, but I was also sincerely INSANE.
At one point in time last week, I convinced myself that there must be a flag on my file at my OB/GYN that said, “Has Tattoos. Must Be A Drug Addict.” I knew several high-risk pregnant women who had been given real cough medicine while pregnant, yet my doctor was only telling me to take Over The Counter crap. (Which does not work, by the way.) Since I called crying on several occasions, begging for relief so I could sleep, I could not figure out why they were holding out on me. Why wouldn’t they give me the good stuff? It must be because they flagged me as a risk to sell it on the corner or main-line it when no one was looking.
I also met MrZ every afternoon as he came home from work with tears. Every day I was crying for various reasons. Either because the pain of the cough was so intense I couldn’t help but cry, or because Pablo lost his Treasure Map on the Backyardigans. Both tragedies were met with the same level of extreme emotion.
So tell me, am I alone? Or do your emotions and rational thinking go the way of the 8-track when you’re deprived a minimal night’s sleep? Is my reaction extreme or the norm? And is there a support group my poor husband can join to help teach him how to handle me when I’m like that? How to balance on the egg shells without sending me over the edge permanently? Because he was a little scared of me last week.