Prozac and Gabapentin daily with steeled discipline seem to be getting me through the winter. Like a hibernating bear I am soulfully thirsty for sleep. These drugs are helping me stay rested. All winter the house has been quiet. Well, except for the house wrens fluttering in the plaster walls during the freeze. A flock of them came in at sunset and flew off at sunrise. The coldest part is over no matter what the weather man says, the wrens have left and the crocus are popping up in larger numbers.
I remember last winter, peeking out the windows watching for sunlight and suffering. I’m getting better at managing depression. In recent years I began taking Prozac in October and went off by February. Met Gabapentin in November and with Prozac all winter it seems to have tipped the scales in favor of wellness. Last summer I couldn’t wait to get off anti depressants, not this year. Coming back from major depression is harder and it’s taking longer.
Thanking God for stopping in our little pharmacy to fill scripts for meds and finding the flu shot station. Our little clinic re-opened but in October, they were not able to source any flu shots for children. So lucky our pharmacy was able to source some and my son and I dodged the flu while my husband sank to near pneumonia. This was a year that the flu shots were a good match for the season. This was the year that changed my husband’s mind about flu shots. He’ll be in line with us timely for them next year.
Giving thanks also for all the little things I managed like quitting smoking and drinking even coffee back in November. It took both patches and gum but it made a huge difference. All these were prescriptions that arose in November’s hospital stay for depression. Counting my blessings and as I write, giving myself slack for all the sleep. If I had not slept so much with long naps in the day I wouldn’t have been able to wake in the middle of the night to keep the fire going so the house would be warm for the morning.
The groups in treatment were useful and helpful. Regretting that I haven’t been able to find a grief group or something timely that could be considered outpatient treatment. The bummer of living so isolated.