Echoes.

So it’s been a few days.
One of the things that you’ll learn about me and/or my varying levels of mental illness/anxiety/OCD/depression is that everything waxes and wanes in my life.
On the days when the meds are working great, I’m motivated to interact with the world.
On the days when the meds are lacking, I accomplish only that which I have to during the day until I can surround myself entirely with my house and family.

During this pregnancy, because I’ve lowered my meds enough to help me “get by” and not really thrive in the hopes of lessening their effects on the baby girl, well… there aren’t really DOWNS, per say, so much as there are days where I find myself staring blankly ahead of me, out of the window, at my feet – wherever my attention caught and failed. These days are almost a pleasure because I can reach the introspective side of me that so rarely emerges on the full doses of medicine. I’m more creative, more emotional, more dramatic – and such a pain in the ass. But I recognize this side of me much more easily than I do the energetic, more motivated side that appears once dosed up. You see, it’s this side of me that takes blame for everything, that carries around a load of guilt that couldn’t possibly be attributed to only her and that finds an unrealistic negativity in everything that she does.
She’s masochistic and though sometimes it IS a pleasure to sink into that dark abyss, I’ll be so glad when she’s gone again.

She’s been whispering her seductive tales of failure and circumstance today, after we were both diagnosed with gestational diabetes this morning. She tells me that it’s my fault, that I’m overweight, that I’m eating wrong, that I’m a genetic hopeless case. The doctor disagrees but she’s the conceited one, knowing more than the doctor, more than anyone else could possibly know – after all, it’s her body too!

::sigh::

I’m scared.
I know it’s a common diagnosis.
I know that diet and exercise can help make this a non-issue in the long run, but still there’s that little whisper in my head telling me that MY case is worse than the others – apparently the masochistic side of me is a little egocentric as well.

I guess only backbone will tell.
Backbone and green vegetables, that is.