On Moving On

Wow, the difference getting outside for five minutes and taking a little white pill can make.

I've been off of Lexapro for months now but with the recent events in our family - basically, stress - I've decided it might be best to get back on it. This happens about once a year, and while I function quite well the remainder of the year there's always a section of a month or two where I find myself so despondent that my options become clear: either keep moping, accomplishing nothing, and stressing out about everything, or allow myself this one thing and inch myself back onto a low dosage in an attempt at reclaiming my remaining sanity. Today, I started taking it, and we shall see what the results are. Even if it's completely placebo, I already feel a little better, and I've found myself internally monologuing my way through my troubles.

We were hoping to move with our tax money, into our own place.

Now we are looking at staying here another six months, if not longer.

It's a tough pill to swallow, pardon my dry humor, and I can't argue that it still really stings to think about. We desperately need our own space and I can see the toll that staying here takes daily on myself, my husband, and my kids. This is not an easy place to live. It was difficult enough when growing up; things have only gotten worse, as my mother has become more set in her ways and more determined that even the smallest things will set her off. I can understand to a degree; randomly adding four people back into your previously empty house and then losing a beloved pet and companion are things that would be taxing on even the most steadfast soul. But for her somehow it is a million times worse, and though she claims we are still welcome here I can only hope that we will be out sooner rather than later, both for the sake of our sanity and so that she can have her house, space, and privacy back.

Today the weather is teasing us. The days have been sunny but too cold and snowless to justify heading outside for any length of time, and up until today, our highs were only topping out at 20, max. Today it was about 65, and though it rained occasionally I found myself outside on my second break, and I took a few minutes to just sit on the curb in the setting sun. It was a boon to my soul, and I know that it helped me feel a little more like there is life outside of this dark, dark box. Then, albeit only briefly, there was a tiny thunderstorm this evening. All I got to see was the vaguely damp ground and a little lightning, and I heard a bit of thunder, but that small event was encouraging! Spring is on its way - even though tomorrow they're forecasting severe storms for our area and on Wednesday we are looking at snow and highs that are back into the 20s. Welcome to the Midwest.

G is officially in therapy. We had intake last Monday and Hubby and I both chose to attend instead of just having one of us go. The therapist, Missy, agreed that we are likely looking at issues with impulse control, but she thinks that in reality most of his problems are stemming from his sensory issues and she wants to further investigate this through some sort of testing that is yet to be arranged. In her opinion this will give us the best idea of what, exactly, is the matter, and how we can best help him integrate his sensory input problems into his daily routine. In short, we want to help him cope, and in turn learn how to cope with his outbursts and overstimulation reactions in turn, so that we don't lose our cool with him when he is obviously having trouble dealing with himself.

My job is still stressful as ever. I am working close to 50 hours a week on a regular basis, and I have worked nearly every Saturday but two since the beginning of November. I am beginning to feel the toll of my position and I won't lie and say that I'm handling it well. I hope that eventually I will even out and learn to tolerate this, because we can't live without my income.

Here's to the coming of Spring.