From Dodo

I was diagnosed schizophrenic about nine months ago, and had moved into a new world with antidepressant and antipsychotic medication since then. It was a slow and frighteningly revealing journey. I found out I was pregnant after we took a long vacation in the States over December. My psychiatrist advised me to quit all meds over two days, which I did. Then a week or so ago I miscarried. But the hospital wasn’t sure I had. I had to go in every day for four days for bloods, scans, examinations, internal scans and, eventually, ‘the talk.’ The one where they say that there’s nothing you could have done differently. Being off the meds made me feel different about the prospect of having another baby. Made me feel different about the strength of my relationship with S. We had a very difficult year last year. While we were away, the idea of new year, new start, new baby, new house seemed natural. Obvious. Now I don’t know. I don’t feel any particular connection to the baby I lost. Or to him.

“small and still and undisturbed. its what i want. and what i’m afraid of. wanting because of the absolution that’s bound to it. turn down the lights, muffle invading sounds. be still. and inside. and quiet. trying to find a way to let go without letting go. to be able to achieve distance from the outside for the hours i have to myself. lose the time that’s mine to lose. now that i’ve walked away from my job i have three whole days to indulge myself. with solitude. not solitude. a kind of comforting vacuum.

but the show must go on. P has to be taken to nursery. Adult conversations must be had. dinner made. dog walked. How much of the outside function can i maintain while secretly willing myself further and further away.
the longer i leave it, the harder it is to get back. one day without brushing my teeth, two days without washing my hair. deliberately not taking the meds in case they strengthen my fingernail grip. stop me from disappearing. but not committing, medicating intermittently. enough for ” and how was your day?” and putting on clothes. enough to take P to the park with a neighbour. enough to take the cat and talk to the vet. joke even. enough to give S a plausible account of a productive day. so he doesn’t despise my sloth. seek pastures greener. again.
outside is jagged edges and piercing sounds. clumsy intrusions. it’s too bright, too loud. too personal. abrasive. other. too much.

so few tools to challenge myself to consider the inevitable conclusion. yet here i am. what would happen if i disappeared completely. i’ve backspaced over that line twice. can’t answer my own question. except I can. i know i’ve felt this way before. i know i’ve lived through it. i remember this feeling – that S is a great father and that there’s lots of people who love P. that the clouds would soon pass. how ridiculous. how indulgent i sound. such melodrama. how pathetic.”

Previously posted here.