I've been missing my anti-depressants more than I've been taking them.
For about a week now, I've been kicking myself in the butt because I've been skipping my anti-depressant. Some mornings, I just don't feel like taking them. Other mornings I just won't drag myself out of bed to get them. And a few mornings I've genuinely forgotten to take them when I jump up to get the kids up and fed.
Things haven't been too bad. I haven't gone bat-shit crazy yet. I'm more tired than normal, and my energy level is a bit low. But over all, I don't feel too bad. Which, I'll admit, is just fueling the fire of "don't take them" that I've started. And that's NOT a good thing by any means.
The downfall to all of this though? Chase seems to have a six sense about me not taking my pills. Oh the humanity of his wrath! He's been BRUTAL this past week or so. He's even gotten to the point of hitting and pushing his sister. Which I thought would NEVER happen. But he's been testing my resolve as an unmedicated parent.
Like I said earlier, I haven't completely lost my mind yet. Yet being the key-word in the sentence. It's definitely not been easy. I've been struggling to keep my composure while trying to keep everyone else in line (because let's face it, I'm the enforcer and peacekeeper of the house, no matter what anyone else tells you). Needless to say though, I'm enjoying the fact that Chase is spending the day at his great-grandparents house today. Skylar and myself are enjoying the serenity of the house currently.
I do find it a bit humorous though. I didn't think that because I stopped taking my medication, my son would fly off his rocker. Just goes to show that everything you do as a parent influences your kids, whether you want it to or not.