Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A Clearer Shade of Blue.
I finally made it back to my yoga class tonight. The minute I arrived, which was a little early, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness come over me. I quickly laid down my mat, and just kind of began centering myself. One of the guys walked by and mentioned how I must be eager to begin. I just smiled. Another of the guys came up behind me, and asked if he could take a closer look at the tattoos on my back. He comment about how beautiful they were. He then asked if I had any new ones, which I shared with him.
I think both of these small acts of interest made me feel kind of melancholy. Such small gestures can bring about such big emotions. This touched a part of me that was feeling quite vulnerable, and the rest of the class continued in that direction. It was another evening of looming sadness, followed by a deep wave of tears once I was securely in my car. At first I was trying to figure out why I was feeling so sad, but then reminded myself not to get caught up in trying to connect the dots. It is what it is.
One thing that I must remind myself is that for the first time in several years, I am dealing with all of my emotions without the aid of medication. A few months ago I began a decrease in all of my medications. I had so many at that point. Pills for my migraines, pills for anxiety and stress, and pills for depression. The last of these to go were the antidepressants. I had dropped the dose down during the last month, then finally got down to the last few pills, and chose not to refill my prescription. I now only take an allergy pill when needed. Oh, and to be honest here, I am back to taking a sleeping pill at night. Now that I have returned to work I need to get a full night's sleep, which I have never been able to do without medication. But I try not to count that one.
Given that I am now drug free, sounds funny, I can expect that I will be going through a period of time adjusting to feeling my grief in a new way. I'm going to just keep reminding myself that I will be fine, and keep moving forward. Just talking about this, or rather, writing about it, helps me to feel less sad. In a minute I'll climb up the stairs that reach to my bedroom, get into bed, and curl up with little Fido. I still can't believe he is here, and I still can't believe that I gave him such a generic name.
I think I can expect to be experiencing a clearer shade of blue for awhile. I think I'll be fine.