The title pretty much sums it up.

I’m literally all nerves, tingling, quivering,  hyperaroused nerves that make it hard for me to sleep at night, hard to quiet my body down. I presume that’s something to do with the combination of venlafaxine withdrawal with other medications and supplements I’m taking. But I don’t know that.

Maybe it’s a reaction to being a lot more busy than I have been in the past year. I recently got another freelance contract, so I have work to do every day and don’t have nearly the free time I had for a number of months. I do notice that having something due to a client puts me much more on edge now than it used to. Or perhaps I just got used to being on edge all the time. We do that, many of us, just to get by in this crazy-busy 21st century. (Side-note: having more work has left me less time to read and respond to blog posts; if I comment less often on your posts, dear WP friends, that’s why.)

Possibly the nerves have to do with this week’s therapy conversations about body memories and flashes of images, of how/why I have such a persistent sense that something happened to me even though my narrative memory can’t explain exactly what it is. I mean, I have been having versions of this conversation with E for nearly three years. It used to be that if we’d talk about it, I’d come home and go to bed. Or I’d make it to work the next day, but I’d be hit by tidal waves of shame that sent me to hide in the sick room to catch my breath. There are no tidal waves of shame anymore, but maybe the conversation still contribute to my edginess?

I’m also a bit nervous about the upcoming therapy break. After today (October 25) I won’t see E again until November 20. That’s 26 days, nearly a month. Okay, yes, some of it is my fault. My husband and I are leaving tomorrow on a vacation. (See Reason #22). It just so happens that right after we get back, E leaves for some professional development in California. Put it all together, and that’s quite a substantial interruption.

As I list this all out, however, I realize that it’s got to be the meds. I am just not that worried about the work. I’m managing it. I’m so efficient as a freelancer, now that I don’t get interrupted 100 times a day or have to spend my best hours in deadly meetings. So I can get a lot done in a few focused hours. And therapy-related shame doesn’t rule over me anymore. (Not to suggest that I’m shame-free, but things have definitely shifted.)

And I am afraid to admit this, but part of me realizes that I don’t need E as intensely as I did even a few months ago. I think. Maybe. Or at least that’s how I feel right this minute. I’ll miss her this month. But we’ll text or email. She sent me off with a hug today, and she’ll welcome me back in November.

So what I’m hoping is that sun and sea will be more powerful than the chemical disturbance in my body. Perhaps on vacation I’ll get to sleep a few uninterrupted hours. And if not, well, even with the disturbance, I’m doing okay. Better than that, I am repeatedly choosing to be kind to myself.

May you all do the same.