No matter how many notifications my pharmacy sent me to go pick up my meds, I let it fall to the back burner. And now I am paying the price, so to speak. I went to therapy on Thursday and told my therapist that I was having a really good week. I discussed how bad I felt that sometimes, my husband’s quirks annoy me. I told him that I often wondered if I made a mistake on choosing sociology over something else in college, and if I chose something else if I’d be in a better position to work from home and spend more time with my kiddo. I left feeling pretty good, getting it all off of my chest. And something changed on Friday where I shifted into this shell of myself. My anxiety triggered big time as we celebrated a co-worker’s pregnancy. I knew that this was going to be a difficult weekend for me.

Because I forgot to pick up my medicine, and I still forgot to ask my husband to pick it up for me on Saturday on his way home from work. And here I am.

I’m on day three without my full Zoloft dosage. I woke up this morning around 9, my child was still asleep. Church starts at 10:45, and my husband is doing audio this week so he had to be there. I asked him to please go without me, I just can’t bring myself to get out of the house today and be around people. Kiddo decided that he wanted to stay home with me. I get nervous at times like this because I have lost my patience with him when my anxiety is this bad. But we’re doing okay this morning. I’m allowing him to have more tablet time than usual. And now he’s decided he just wants to play with his new toys and I’m more than okay just listening to his imagination soar while he creates scenarios with Lightning McQueen and Mater.

I know at some point today I’ll start feeling better. It may not be easy, but I know that I’ll get there.