(I promise I will get back to my regularly scheduled running posts soon. I'm running tonight, after having a really busy week last week. So, update on that, tomorrow! And if you have an extra $10 or so dollars lying around, please consider donating to my fundraising campaign for PAWS Chciago, at http://teampaws.hollythelibrarian.com )
So. The psychiatrist increased my Lexapro dosage to 20mg, from 10mg. To slowly ease up to it, he told me to step up to 15mg, by taking one and a half pills, for a week. I was really antsy and restless for most of the week. I had a hard time concentrating. I still felt sluggish and sleepy, but had all this fidgety energy but no actual energy. Those side effects are decreasing right now. While I still feel kind of nervous/panicky/PTSD-y/depressed/tired, I feel more alert. More cognizant of life. I'm not quite to the point of actually being able to feel more emotion than the stereotypically flat Bella, but I know that will (hopefully) come in the fullness of time.
Of course, now that I'm getting over the restlessness of increasing my dose by 5mg, it's time for me to increase another 5mg starting tonight. I'm bracing myself another week of the weirdo fidgety phase, but this time around, I should have more time for running so that should help.
And of course, now that the side effects are wearing off, I'm getting more, and more vivid, dreams. It's got to be because of Lexapro. Maybe it's stimulating my brain out of its depression fog that the neurons start firing more while I sleep?
Two nights ago, I dreamed that I was trying to climb around this big rock that was blocking a desert pathway, before arguing with a smoker that no, he's not allowed to smoke inside. The smoker then got irrationally angry that I made him extinguish his cigarette to save for later, that I even dared to tell him he was wrong, so he tried to spray me with black paint, but I was too good at self defense and turned it around at him and he ended up spraypainting his face.
Last night, I dreamed I watched the Blue Angels sink a cruise liner slash battleship, and even ended up in the water myself as if it was a ultra-realistic reality TV show, and I thought, "my little brothers would love the explosions!" Then I was back at my parents house, hanging out with my little siblings, so so glad to see them. I got to talk with little sister #1 because she's become more mature and totally growing up, and i told her I'm so glad she's keeping watch over the other little ones. I hugged little sister #2, because she was really sensitive and prone to crying if she felt like she disappointed anybody, and I told her that she is strong, she is a good person, and she is smart, and not to let dad's rages break her down.
Little brother #2, the one who has hearing aids like me, loved the explosions, and I was able to give him some encouragement when he has a hard time hearing people, provided some tips that I found out, and so on. Little brother #3...he was so little when my dad cut off all contact between them and me. I still see him as the little monkey-like brother, hooting at me like the monkeys at the zoo. I hugged him, and he held onto me like a monkey. Then they all went off to play while I did the dishes.
Suddenly dad appeared, and he was raging. He yelled at mom in the living room, that it was her fault the house was messy. He stomped around, complaining about this or that, and he yelled at the little ones for being ungrateful and not appreciative of all the toys he buys, and took a garbage bag and started throwing perfectly good, brand new toys away. I heard the clunk of plastic on plastic. I kept on washing the dishes, as he yelled at mom some more in an angry monologue of perceived hurts. Fear coursed through my body; my heart hurt from the anxiety. And yet I kept washing the dishes, and I thought to myself, "This is why I moved out. This is why I put up boundaries in my parents' communications with me, as much as they hated it."
My cat, Joe, woke me up early this morning before my alarm went off, and I realized my teeth were clenched and that I was grinding my teeth. Perhaps Joe noticed it was a bad dream when he nuzzled me with his cold nose. I pet him for a while, lying there in the dark, letting him soothe me.
I think Lexapro will help me in the long run, but I really hope it doesn't mean I'm going to be having nightly dreams about my dad. I had nightmares every single night as a kid living at home--I really don't want that again.
Hooray for running--that will hopefully make me too tired to dream tonight.
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