My tale of woe
After the birth of Little Runner I developed debilitating Endomeitriosis. Since I had bad cramps all my life I thought I knew what Endomeitriosis was and how bad it felt. Boy was I wrong. I actually got to the point where I remember explicitly thinking, "If this doesn't get better (soon) I don't think I want to hang around like this." Most of my problems seemed to stem from implantation near my sciatic nerve that gave me chronic pain all the time, no matter what position I want in, sitting, standing, or laying down. It got so bad that for weeks at a time I couldn't actually stand up because bad things happened. This of course was very disruptive to my ability to work.
It took about 9 months for everything to get to that point, and then another 9 months for me to fully figure out what the actual problem was and get it treated. Ultimately I had 4 operations to deal with individual physical issues, crossing each potential pain source off until there was just one left. The only useful pain relieving course for me is taking the pill continuously with no breaks. I fully thought that once I had fixed the pain issue all of my built up psych issues would evaporate. No dice. I don't know why I didn't make the connection that chronic pain is often coupled with depression. After spending the first 2 years of Little Runner's life being hair-trigger cranky, yelling like a drill sergeant on crack, and starting to get a bit slappy with the boy, I decided that I needed some serious help. Hello Cymbalta!
Reality is all in your head...
Within 3 days of starting the drug I was able to got to the gym every day for 5 days straight. The last vestiges of discomfort left my feet and lower legs (apparently a known effect of Cymbalta) and I started to unwind and relax and get some control over my reactions to my amazing, funny, totally annoying and exasperating child. Fitness was on the menu again, which was great since over the preceding 24 months I had gained almost 60 lbs!
Fast forward year later I am down 35 lbs (Yay!) and on to the next phase of whatever my brain/body has in store for me. After about 6 weeks of really crappy sleep I talked with my doctor and decided to cut my Cymbalta dosage in half. I'm about 10 days into it and I feel very good, and thankfully I am sleeping much better again. I can also deeply concentrate again, which is a total blessing. I've been on Cymbalta for almost 2 years now, and during that entire time I haven't quilted, which is one of my historic passions. But I have been passionate about fitness and exercise. And as my attention span has gotten better and my ability to concentrate came back my drive to exercise has fallen by the wayside.
This, of course, deeply concerns me. It also makes me think about personality, preferences, and brain chemistry. It's kind of scary that taking a pill every morning can essentially change my ability to enjoy the things I used to enjoy, and enhance my ability to do things that have historically been difficult. Now, given the choice between quilting and not wanting to kill myself, I'll take the latter. But if I can find a way to have quilting, good moods and limited yelling and snappiness, and running that would be the best mix.
So I am going to work on it the hard way. Tomorrow morning I'm going to get up and hit the treadmill for a brisk walk like I used to almost every morning. And I'm going to build up from there. I'll get back to tracking my diet and see if I can't get back on my fitness wagon. This is all for the long haul. If I have to figure out new ways to do things that work for me with the way my brain is now, so be it. All I have is a lifetime to get it right, however long that may be.
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