Day 111: steroids, anti-depressants, baby birds

My throat is cracking like the plains of the Sahara because the hospital air is filtered and re-filtered and conditioned and DRY. So dry. I made myself a cup of throat coat tea. This stuff is pretty good, if you like that sort-of-sweet licorice flavor. I happen to, so it's real nice.

I just got home a few hours ago from a five day stint in the hospy, and you know what that means. (Maybe. In case not: bruised arms from so many needles, aching back from crappy bed, new medicines to take, stir crazy mind from small room, etc.) I had to go to the ER on Friday because of increasing chest pains that were making it more and more impossible to breathe. As it turned out, I had some probably-viral-thing that caused fluid to build up around an already inflamed heart lining. I forget what it's called, but now I'm back on steroids and it seems to be working. No, not muscle building steroids. These babies play with your mind and make you eat and walk around all day. Thankfully the specific type they put me on doesn't seem to have any huge effects (cue horrible memories of other steroid trials. The pacing. The crying. The wanting to die.) Thankfully it was pretty easy to tell last time that the steroid was what making me want to kill myself, so after just two days of trying it out, we cut it off.

I'm not going to lie though: the steroids just intensify what's going on inside your head. They raise the stakes higher, and deepen the agony. For days upon unending days I felt trapped and alone in this nightmare. I was going to cry until my body disintegrated.

This brings up an issue that I can’t shy away from anymore. Depression. It’s happening. I didn’t want it to happen, I wanted to stay strong. I wanted to get through this sludge and have a good attitude. Conquer each step like victories of gold. But there’s too much sliding down the cliff now for me to hold on anymore. I feel weak and unmotivated and dull. Most days I feel like doing absolutely nothing but maybe watch some crappy reality TV and maybe sleep. There's too much Always winter, never Christmas in here. And when I look at the time I’m spending, I think to myself, this is not intentional living, Bekah. This is not how you wanted to spend this time. And I hate myself for it. It makes me feel worse, and I slip further down, the mire slop piling around me, self and body fading away.

So on Friday I’m going to ask for help. I’m going to try an anti-depressant. It’s so hard to get through this, even with all the support I know that I have around me. I guess I just need a bit more help in this way. I’m no stranger to anti-depressants or depression, though it was a bit harder to spot for what it was this time around. I’ll report back my findings as I enter back into the world anti-depressants. I hope I can feel a change.

On a lighter, hairy-er note, my sister thinks I look like a baby bird. 

...You can make your own assumptions.

ps. It's finally past 100 days, and I've been eating salad like it's my job, even though nothings in season and probably doesn't taste very good but I don't really care at this point.
And tonight, I am going to eat my favorite Siam Delight curry for dinner. That is one good thing I can count on.