sueeeus

I get a newsletter from the Mayo Clinic. Today’s gem: “Coping with stress is easier when you identify your stress triggers, manage your time well and beat burnout.”

Duh…

I can identify my number one stress trigger. That would be Mister Gadget, in all his pleasant glory.

I don’t think I mentioned that I’ve been tapering off the Zoloft. I’m nearly done, and have learned some interesting things in the process. The first thing is that Zoloft worked wonders as a marriage stabilizer. If When Gadget, my man of few words, which, when uttered, tend toward sour and sarcastic, and I bicker (oh, the commas in this sentence are dizzying), I end up the worse for wear, and he is oblivious to the fact that there is even an argument in progress, and generally snaps at me to inquire why I’m being so nasty, again, oblivious to the fact that he is snapping at me. The frustration rises and consumes me in the instant, and I’m powerless to express anything, and find myself on the verge of tears. It’s maddening. And I’m not a nasty, sour person. I’m gentle and pleasant (for the most part).

I ask him what he thinks it means if I need to be medicated in order to live harmoniously with him. “You’re still going on about that? I’m over it. It’s history,” he says, in reference to the spat, assuming that’s where I’m coming from when I ask him what he thinks it means if I need to be medicated… He does that. Makes assumptions about what he thinks I’m talking about, instead of actually listening to what I’m saying. It’s maddening!

And perplexing. At work, effective communication is one of my professional skills. I’m generally diplomatic, patient, and pleasant. I help bridge cultural chasms, for crying out loud, and bring about a meeting of the minds. People are usually cooperative, and even if they’re not, I can still deal with it. But on the home front? We do not communicate well. And I don’t know why. Obviously, I think he could stand to be more cooperative. He just thinks I’m stubborn and overly sensitive. It’s true, I admit it, but I’m generally reasonable, and not stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. Whereas he seems to be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. It’s more entertaining for him. Or something. It would be nice if he could see that what’s merely entertaining for him is serious for me, and perhaps, possibly, make a little self-sacrifice and attempt to show some consideration for my sensitive nature. To tell me not to be sensitive is of very little help. If I knew how to curb my sensitivities (naturally), then I’d DO it. Work with me here, please.

Meanwhile, I’m pulling out my hair, and wondering if tapering off the Zoloft is such a good idea. Zoloft gave me a buffer that allowed me that instant of time to seek words rather than be immediately incapacitated in the face of frustration. So I wonder how I can possibly acquire that buffer naturally. I don’t need it for work. I don’t need it for my child. I don’t need it for my siblings or my friends. I only need it for Mister Gadget. Why is that?

The other thing I’ve noticed with the taper is that the first few days with a reduced dosage are fine. Even great. But the fourth day is another story. There was a spat on day 4 of the first dosage reduction cycle, and there was a spat on day 4 of this one as well. It could be coincidence, but something tells me it’s not. Interesting. After day 4, things seem to normalize. I go two weeks on each reduction. I’m nearly done. One week to go. I’m wondering if I’ll have another meltdown in a week and four days.

Now, I’m not saying that Gadget is a complete jerk and I’m an angel among angels (although, when it comes to being behind the wheel, it’s a completely different matter, and yes, I’ll say he tends to be a consistent jerk in that respect). The frustrations of which I speak are not a constant thing. THANK GOD! This latest is an unloading of the most recent day 4 experience. We have many harmonious times. There’s not such an emotional need to write things out and unload when things are harmonious, though. The result is a rather lop-sided portrayal of the relationship.

I have a beautiful life. Truly, I do. I just have my moments.

Coming soon, a show and tell post about recent inspirations and corners of my home.

Happy Anniversary, Baby, Got You on My Mind….

Does anybody remember LRB? I used to love them. Well, I still like them, but haven’t heard them in years and years.

Five years ago, today. Las Vegas. Fools for Love. April Fool’s Day! (There is method to my madness. It’s a date that’s easily remembered.)

A Vegas wedding would have been the last thing on my mind, had I married in my twenties or early thirties. By the time I reached my late thirties, all those youthful fantasies of fairytale weddings had long since dissipated.

But enough about weddings and youthful fantasies. Today I heard the heartbeat again!! The doctor put the doppler to my belly and in all of two seconds, there was that beautiful whoosh! whoosh! whoosh! pow! whoosh! pow! that I love so much. (The pow is when the little peanut kicks. Such an active little thing!)

The results from the last screen came back with nothing out of the ordinary. The fetal medicine folks still recommend the detailed echo, and that’s fine. My doctor said that women of age with diabetes sometimes have higher rates of infants with cardiac abnormalities, but not to be alarmed. There’s nothing so far to suspect anything of the sort. The detailed echo would just provide a little more information. It seems that all is well on the baby front, even in the face of statistics, so I am VERY thankful!!

I gained two pounds. That part is a disappointment. But after the recent food frenzy, it shouldn’t be a major surprise. And yes, the frenzy continued, because we dined out tonight to celebrate our marital bliss. Mexican food. Gadget’s favorite. (Next to pasta.) The wild boy even behaved himself, for the most part. I think he had about three bites. Next time I won’t order him his own plate. Once we were back in the car, he immediately started snacking on his Cheerios. Some people’s kids.