This is your brain on drugs…

First of all, thanks for all the nice comments over my last few posts. They were much appreciated and helpful!

I am convinced that Clomid, this round, acted like a crazy drug (well, I guess it kind of is) and completely changed me. I have never felt – like I felt. It feels hard to describe but I’m going to attempt anyway.

The only side effect of Clomid I had ever felt, up until this point, was hot flashes, and that occurred at 50, 100, and 150 mg, with the hot flashes increasing as the dosage went up. That was really about it.

For whatever reason, when I took 150 mg the first time, as a Round 2 dose in the same cycle as my 100 mg pills, still, I only had hot flashes, whereas now…well, now it’s totally different.

Thankfully, it’s over. I feel like I just woke up from the 7th circle of hell. You know my whiny, ranting, rather depressed previous posting(s)? That night all the way through to last night, I felt – off. I wasn’t crying (well, only once), but I was walking around in a zombie-like state, feeling sorry for myself. But not like…normal, “Oh, whoa is me, I have infertility issues” – no, it was way past that. It was…dark. I guess I really can’t explain it, except to say that I felt and acted seriously depressed. Like, if that kept up I’d need to go see someone soon, kind of depressed. It wasn’t even about not being pregnant anymore – I didn’t even know what I was depressed about. Babies weren’t even on my mind – which was a sign to me that something was very much off. I didn’t want to do anything, I was overly emotional, and I felt awful about myself. I didn’t sleep well, I had limited social interactions with my friends – it was really, freaking weird.

A lot of you have said many times that Clomid messed with your emotions, too, except you frequently mentioned yelling and screaming and crying a lot. None of that happened for me. Instead, I think it took my normal emotions, even including my OCD and anxiety-filled tendencies (which are minor when I’m not hooked on Clomid), and made them 100x stronger.

I guess what I’m saying is, I have never felt more depressed in my entire life. And then, last night, while at a bonfire with N’s relatives (more on that in a minute), one of my students who lives next door to N’s aunt came over with her parents, and I sat and chatted with them for a few hours around the fire. I enjoyed seeing my student and talking with her parents, and as we said good-bye, I suddenly started to feel – lighter. More chippy. Like, functional. N noticed the change, too. As I went to bed, I wondered if my new back-to-normal mood would resume in the morning, or if I’d wake up today back in the funk.

This morning, I woke up at 6:15, jumped out of bed, and was ready to start the day. I’ve been in a normal, good mood all day long, being productive with 5,000 chores and loads of laundry. I applied for a summer job, I cut up a watermelon, I watered the plants – life is good today. Just like that, I feel like a completely different person – but the person I’m supposed to be. This weekend (and, really, a few days before that) – that was not me. So whoever I saw and spoke to during that time, disregard our conversations. I felt like I was looking down from above at myself, talking. I couldn’t even think rational thoughts on Friday night – my brain was spinning.

I have to assume it was the Clomid. It started around my second pill and heightened the next night even more. Up until this point, I thought Clomid side effects hung out all month long – as my hot flashes do. Hopefully not. I am going to speak with my nurse about it on Tuesday, when I am going in for a CD 12 u/s and b/w. If I have a next cycle – I’m not sure I want to do that ever again. Like, even getting pregnant wouldn’t be worth feeling that low. It was really horrible. And to think, my Dr. prescribes 200 and 250 mg of Clomid if needed. I can tell you right now that 150 is too high for me. I’d be willing to try 100 again, I guess – but I’m worried that I can no longer ovulate on lower dosages. Which means I may need a new drug altogether.

The only little glitch in my mind has to do with my controlling personality. I feel the need to have complete control over myself at all times. If I’m upset, I talk myself out of it. I’m constantly, even subconsciously, reflecting on my interactions with other people. So, when this happened in the last few days, I had a hard time convincing myself a drug was causing this. Instead, I assumed I was going off the deep end, and was fighting to keep in control. After losing that battle, I started to blame Clomind – but what if it wasn’t the Clomid? What if that was really me, and it’s going to come back? So, it’s a little scary.

Luckily, I have you all here to confirm the best, or worst news. What are your Clomid horror stories?

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Now, as a little sequel to the story of N’s family’s friend, who made those comments last week on Mother’s Day, my mind may have been changed.

Long story short, N told me that his mother told him that his aunt spoke to this man, told him more about my situation, and he felt terrible. Okay, I thought. I’m not mad at him – like, I don’t hate the guy. It just wasn’t his brightest move. Then, at the bonfire last night, I’m in the house alone with N’s aunt and she says, almost angrily, “I just want you to know that I would never tell anyone about your situation. ____ didn’t know. He had no idea.” Now, I said in that post that he knew. I thought he did. I wrongly assumed he did know, because N’s family talks about things, in front of a lot of people, and N’s mom had told N’s aunt before I could, so I just..I just assumed. I wasn’t pointing my finger at any one person, though. I just figured he found out somehow – and I wasn’t even upset if he did know. So anyway, N’s aunt was kind of upset that I actually believed she might have spilled my little secret to this man, and I think she was hurt. I felt bad because…I shouldn’t have assumed. My bad.

Then, she went on to say that this man still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the situation. In my head, I’m wondering why my husband told me that the man had been told the situation and felt horrible about it. Something is amiss. So I have no idea if this man 1) knows about our infertility, knows he hurt me, and feels bad, 2) knows he hurt me, but doesn’t know why, or 3) doesn’t know anything and hasn’t given it another thought.

Interestingly enough, he showed up to the bonfire last night, there was a quick hug, and that was it. Nothing was said. And now I don’t want to bring it up because I don’t know..what he already knows.

What a stupid situation. It left me feeling badly for him and N’s aunt, and then I remembered I didn’t do anything wrong.

I’ll keep you updated after we get a little look at my follies on Tuesday, and hopefully I’ll continue to be a normal, sane, happy person.

 

I’m having a quarter-life crisis.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 9:00 at night (which, as a teacher, is basically my bedtime), or the fact that I got up this morning at 4:45 to go to spinning class – maybe I’m just tired.

But really, honestly, I’m miserable.

Driving home from watching one of N’s men’s league softball games (we took two cars) I formed this post in my mind, and I decided I wasn’t sure that I wanted to even share it with you. Mostly because I don’t – know what I want from it. I don’t want pity (I have enough of my own), I don’t want to become the whispers of gossip that spread like wildfire (not that I’m saying you all would…but it just seems to happen sometimes), and I don’t even know what the hell is wrong with me.

But then I decided that if anyone out there can sort of pull me through all this, it’s you. And at the very least, writing it down does seem to help. This is kind of long, I’m warning you.

Here’s the problem: Besides the obvious, I just don’t feel like myself. I’m not happy with my life, let’s face it. I’m of course happy with my husband, my dogs….but not content, not fulfilled. I’m just living and breathing every day, but I’m not experiencing anything. Something is missing. In addition, I feel like I can’t – connect to people like I once could. I have this dark cloud hanging above me, and I can usually fake it, but those who know me know it’s there – and I hate that they know it, that I’m not myself. I feel like I’m letting myself down, because others who once knew me as happy-go-lucky (if not slightly high-strung), now might see me as this negative ball of dust.

So not only am I not happy with my home life, in that it’s all work and no play, the connections I have with people I care about IRL, but also, I don’t want school to end.

It’s pathetic to even say that – what teacher doesn’t want summer?

This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. And I’m starting to notice a trend. My first class ever, 5 years ago, was beyond amazing. They were just – wonderful, supportive, helpful kids. And we all formed a tight bond – there was crying and hugging on the last day and nice notes shared. That summer, which was when I was in limbo – not married, living in a tiny apartment, hoping to keep  my job and get engaged soon, going through the motions – I had a hard time getting over that class. I couldn’t wait to get to school, to see these kids, who made me so happy because they were full of life and energy, jokes and laughter, and I wasn’t, and it helped. But then, when summer came, it sucked.

The following year, my second year, I was engaged and planning a wedding. That class was fine enough, but they did nothing for me. I was excited for summer. They all cried on the last day and I was grinning. I wasn’t in limbo anymore. I had a solid plan (getting married that July) in a house of our own with two dogs. The plan was in place and everything felt perfect. Interestingly enough, I also had no hives or autoimmune issues this wedding planning year. I was stress-free.

So, after that second year, I told myself, the way I emotionally handled the leaving of my first class was just because they were my first, and every year after that, I’ve never gone back to that weird place.

Until now. This is my first year all over again, in a way. I’m in a new school, new teachers, new grade level, new curriculum. My kids are awesome. They make me laugh, a lot, every day, and they are kind and helpful. They are also hyper and messy, but that’s another story. I can already feel the emotions of this school year ending deep inside, just like that first year, except maybe worse this time. I dread summer. I don’t want to be home, cleaning or doing random house projects. I want to be with kids, with my kids, kids who make me forget about this lack of a pregnancy and make me feel important, needed, and in control.

This class is seriously doing more for me, I fear, than I am for them. They are filling a void. And it has hit me all of a sudden. I suppose it’s not just my class – it’s children in general. Not too young, because then I’m reminded that I don’t have a baby. But a little older, when they are funny and amazing, and have baseball games and piano lessons. I want to attend those games, and those lessons.I want to BE their mom. And I’m not – not even close.

I feel odd saying this, but I have never dreaded summer more than I do right now. And there are 5 weeks until that day comes. It also doesn’t help that my students always go to the junior high the following year, so the majority of them, I never see again. It’s very sad. I’m already sad about losing them and we still have 5 weeks.

Again – I don’t even know if I want to post this rambling nonsense. I feel foolish, idiotic, and slightly insane. I’m attached to my students because they fill a void in my life, and that’s just weird. My only hope is that my life follows some type of a pattern (highly unlikely), and this year, the limbo year, is followed by a year of stress-free, pregnancy life. No need to be attached to other people’s children if I’ve got my own.

I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis. Seriously.  Call it an identity crisis, if you will. I’ve said this before, and this is a big issue as well, but I either want to be my age or a little older, with children I’m driving around town, or I want to be young – really young. Like, high school. Or even elementary school. Those years were the best – carefree, mom’s got dinner covered, all you have to do is your homework and clean your room. The innocence of those years is what I think I really miss most of all, and I try to remember my days as a 5th grader. It’s hard to do, and that’s sad, too. I only remember quick little moments, but not the fun and excitement that I see in my own students.

So, either 30 with kids, or 10. There is no in-between, but unfortunately, that’s where I find myself. Hence being in limbo. Hence why I find myself, on Friday afternoons, playing kickball, basketball, or running races with my students. And loving every minute of it.

I feel like a total nut. Completely out of character, definitely not my old self. N used to call me naive, but I preferred optimistic and innocent. I am so not that person anymore, and I really, truly wish I was.

As usual, I do feel better after writing this down. And a new thought – perhaps it’s the Clomid that’s causing my emotions to totally whack out.

I’m on 150 mg, though it’s only the third day of taking the pills this round. Anyone else experience weird emotions while on Clomid?

Hey, thanks for reading. I post this to the internet because I know somewhere, someone can relate, and that makes me feel better.