cleverly disguised as a responsible adult

Yesterday I stayed home from work again. I was following the doctor's orders - taking a Xanax, a bit more of my sertraline, and staying away from the anxiety-laden work environment. So I did those things.

Then Downwood came down with an absolutely TERRIBLE stomach bug. He was down for the count and couldn't take care of anyone. I was struggling trying to keep the kids happy, him hydrated, and me from dissolving into panic.

So I did what any well-adjusted adult would do. I called Mom.

She dropped everything at work and rearranged her entire schedule. She drove up and immediately took charge of the kids. I'd managed to get dinner in the oven and she helped get the kids to the table and even convinced both of them to eat. Then she helped me with dishes and got the kids in the tub. I had a minor meltdown, but the kids didn't have to see.

She was there in the middle of the night when Emi had an accident and we had to get her bed changed. Emi was sobbing because her favorite blankie got wet and had to be washed, but Grandma was there, so things weren't so bad.

She folded the clothes from the dryer and moved the wet things so Emi's blankie was dry this morning when she woke up.

When I left for work, she'd already gotten both kids to the table. Everyone was happy.

If Downwood's feeling better today, they'll be working on getting the house cleaned up, swept, vacuumed. The tasks that normally I take care of on the weekends, but couldn't due to severe anxiety and depression.

She'll have to leave before I get home from work today, but since my med changes and hormone changes seem to have kicked in, I should be okay to deal with life again.

So, yeah. Mom is awesome. And, in 30 years, if Emi calls and says she needs me, I'll drop everything and come to her. It doesn't matter if I don't approve of her husband or choices - if she needs me, I'll be there and do what needs doing to get her back on her feet. And that's family and that's awesome and that's where I'm from.
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Also, Xanax is really weird stuff. It turns me into Zombie Sabine. I read two good books, but couldn't actually tell you that I enjoyed it. I ate good food, but couldn't tell you if it was good. I completely shut down. BUT, I wasn't shaking and sobbing and overwhelmed by an anxiety attack from something simple like "What kind of tea would you like?"

Today, I'm close to normal. I cared about things like sparkly jewelry and nice nail polish. I got a good lunch and breakfast packed for work and enjoyed my morning coffee. I was able to honestly smile at my kids and give my mom a hug and mean it.

I have a follow-up appointment with my psych doc in 2 weeks to talk about how we're going to manage my meds so that this doesn't happen every month. I forget the name, but there's a clinical term for "PMS that makes Anxiety disorders go Batshit Crazy." I snarl when I can't come up with the appropriate response, but the bigger problem is the curling up into a ball and crying and not being able to function at all. I can't have 25-30% of my life be this way. It's better than the 100% of me-before-any-meds-or-therapy, but it's not good.

I found one of my small paper journals, so I'm going to work on tracking shifts in mood to correlate with anything possible. I can be fixed. Everything's going to be okay.

 I have discovered why superheroes wear their underwear on the outside. It's obviously to keep their tights from bagging down around their knees. 

Obviously.

Either that or I just have no idea how to do basic things like wear tights.

Or I'm supposed to be a superhero.

It's a toss-up, really.