Please Make the Monster Go Away

I guess I shouldn't have canceled my appointment today with my therapist just because I didn't think I felt well enough to talk for an hour.

It's ironic that Scott and I braced ourselves for all sorts of mood swings when I got pregnant, and really didn't have any issues, but now I'm on the rollercoaster from hell.

I'm really just starting to recognize the pattern. I take the Prednisone in the morning, and about 12 hours later, I'm acting like a Meth addict (ok, I'm exaggerating since I don't really know what Meth addicts act like) -- I'm jittery, I'm irritable, I cry at the drop of the hat, I feel like every nerve ending is buzzing in a really bad way. I can't concentrate. I can't focus on conversations. I get overwhelmed by noise and activity, and a 3-year-old is essentially a whirlwind of noise and activity!

Unfortunately, that timing pretty much corresponds with Scott and Ellie getting home for the day and doing our nightly routines. I wonder if it would be better to take it at night and have that kind of feeling during the morning/day while I'm alone. Might be easier on my family, at least.

If I'd had a different kind of husband, we would have had a blow-out argument tonight. I'd wanted to talk to him earlier in the evening, but after getting Ellie down for the night, he went online and did some work and email and relaxed for a bit. By the time he came back to the bedroom, I was essentially strung out. My pain levels were blowing the roof off because I was trying to wait to take them as late as I could so they'd last longer through the night and help me sleep better. And I was teetering on the edge of a precipice on the Prednisone rollercoaster when he started a detailed conversation that covered at least three diverse topics.

So I of course pulled the: "So why do you expect me to be able to talk to you on your schedule when you can't talk to me when I want to talk to you? Don't you know how bad a place I'm in right now?!"

Well, he didn't, exactly. Although there were signs. So he went off to a take a shower and I took my meds, and when he came out, I went into more detail than I ever have before about how out-of-control and irrational I feel despite being on anti-depressants and going back on twice-a-day anti-anxiety pills. (Never, ever, ever needed the latter until the mega-doses of Prednisone in the hospital.)

And I cried, and he hugged me and promised that he'd stand by me and we'd get through this together. I married a good man. I can't imagine any of my previous relationships standing up to all of this, but then there's a reason why I never married until I met Scott. And it isn't that I was never asked.

But I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of feeling like I have no control over my life anymore. I miss my friends, and being a full-time mom, and doing more family activities and being able to quilt.

I'm definitely calling my internist tomorrow. The problem with saying that I just want off the Prednisone asap is that ... well ... in some ways, it is helping. Much of my joint pain in my extremities is improved since the latest round of Prednisone started. Yeah, the pain in that chest joint thingie is worse, but a lot of the other joints are doing better. They're still painful, but not as excrutiating as they were. And I'm afraid they'll get worse again as I lower the Prednisone dosage.