The medication didn’t work. I developed a rash over most of my body. I became more depressed. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to kill myself. But I didn’t want to wake up the next morning. I felt like a guinea pig. Let’s up the meds. Let’s up the meds again. Hey let’s try this. I’m not against medication. I know the miracles it can work for some people. For me, it isn’t the right fit.
I started by getting myself out of bed. The simple act of walking to and sitting on the couch. Maybe the recliner. Not a huge step, however it was motion. The motion that started the climb out of the deep well I was residing in.
Most days I sat looking out the window. Not getting out of my pajamas. I was frustrated with myself. No matter how much I wanted to do anything, I couldn’t. Once again daily tasks had become hardships.
Why? Why can’t I get my self in gear? Why am I stuck at this point in grief? What am I missing?
My sister. Plain and simple. I had to go get tests done without my sister. That little everyday action. Going to the doctors. Going to get bloodworm, scans, etc. I went with her. She should be with me. That is what triggered this last grief burst.
Like I said, the medication just wasn’t helping. So, what helped me for the previous couple of years?? I was severely depressed after learning of my sister’s cancer. Especially after her brain surgery. (She would die a little over a year later) I was so motivated to push through for her. Why couldn’t I push myself for me?
What was I doing wrong? Different??
Then the fog lifted and I remembered what I did to feel at least halfass human.
My magic cure all :
Go to the gym & yoga