“She’s not crazy, knock on wood…”
April 24th, 2010 by sarah
Sooo… I started Chantix again. Everybody knows that, right? And everybody might remember that in past experience with this particular drug, I was a little twitchy. Not necessarily certifiable or even close, just very delicate. Prone to tears. A bit impatient. Me, but more stereotypical girly, I think, is the way I described it to a friend earlier this week.
Anyhow- when I told Facebook that I was taking it, I had lots of awesome supportive comments and a few that basically said “uh, you know that’s gonna make you all BSC, right?” Granted, I probably deserved that because of the way that I phrased the announcement, but it still made me a bit paranoid.
Yesterday was Day 3 of Chantix. I’m pretty sure that it takes a bit longer than that for most drugs to start screwing with you, but it was a seriously bad day anyhow. There was work stress. There was family stress. There was a touch of weird with a friend and there was the onset of the 2 days per month that I am actually entitled to be twitchy… and I wasn’t really a basket case- it was worse. I was somewhere on the line between being fine and being a hot mess. I could tell that I was on a precipice but nothing that I could do pulled me off of it or sent me on over the edge. It was very disconcerting and upsetting, but you know what? I dealt. I ran my errands, I went home, and I decided that my evening was going to be spent doing whatever my mind and body decided I needed to be doing, plans be damned. Well, my plan was to do some serious cleaning and then tackle the abyss that is the sewing room. Instead I watched half of a movie, did some cleaning, watched the Madonna episode of Glee (BTW, the “Like a Virgin” montage? Just a touch too hot. Just sayin’), cleaned some more, remembered to eat… and put my foot down on a few callers and said “no, really, it’s alone time now, I promise I’ll fix you tomorrow, and I don’t need to be fixed right now either.” How often do I do that? Rarely… and it felt kind of good. Decadent. Therapeutic, even. I stayed up late and I cleaned out my chest of drawers and I watched junk TV and it was good, just me and the cats and the dog and whatever I decided I wanted to say to them- or not.
So anyway- today is much better. I’m not going to say I’m not feeling a little bit delicate but I’m definitely feeling better equipped to handle myself, should I find myself immersed in that weird place again… and I hope that I can tap into that little security if I do start noticing myself there, because obviously, I can do this.