I had an appointment with my pdoc the other day. The last time I’d seen her I was in high stress, high parenting crisis mode. We talked about supports, therapy, etc. And she asked to see me in a month.
I’m not in crisis anymore–I don’t even think I’m depressed. But, there’s an annoying low-level of anxiety that flares up in certain contexts, like work (where I’m working in a no-win, understaffed situation which management barely gives lip service too), and of course, when my daughter isn’t doing well. It is said that you’re only as happy as your least happy child when you’re a parent, and I think that rings true.
It is awful to say, but she does trigger me. It triggers anxiety and guilt and even despair at times. At the end of it all, it exhausts me and it takes all my effort to just get the basics done.
So pdoc and I discussed this. I used to have so much motivation. I was the one who Got Things Done. That feels like a lifetime ago. It’s weird because in my head I feel that there are things I want to do, but then there’s a break in the circuit of actually getting started.
Which…all means that I walked out of her office with a prescription for Wellbutrin. I’ve been on it before. It helped. I know all about dopamine and what it does (woohoo! let’s PARTY!) and I hope it gives me some motivation back, because fuck knows I have a lot to do in the next while.