It was the drugs what made me do it, officer… Wow, I cannot articulate the improvement in my state of mind over the past 24 hours. It is a physical, palpable sensation of my head having cleared. I realised it yesterday afternoon: I felt like myself again. I felt well, I felt clear, cheerful, energised…mentally and physically fit and well. And it was only when I met Llew at the ferry last night that I realised there had been a distinct shift. “How are you?” he said, and I stopped, thought about it, and said, “I’ve just realised I feel great for the first time in weeks. My head’s cleared.” And he looked at me and said, “You actually look healthier.”
On the other side of it, it’s only now becoming screamingly apparent to me that I was in a drug-induced fug. That miserable person is not me – I am a born optimist. That self-pitying, downhearted person – you know the one – is some hormonal monster that swept in and devoured my soul. I feel like I have exorcised something terrible. And you know, it makes me super dubious about continuing with these fertility meds. Clearly it caused a little estrogen tsunami to kick off inside me, and the results were pretty diabolical compared to the way I usually feel. I tell you, it’s in my HEAD. I can actually feel the lightness and clarity returning to my head.
What a relief. I honestly can’t describe the shift from that state to this – it’s marked, and it’s further confirmed my general preference for not taking drugs for anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. I am going to return to my GP and my obs/gyn guy and ask if this is Really Absolutely Necessary. Because the last few weeks have been shit, with the notable exception of the retreat at Aireys Inlet, where I think I was so euphoric about being with the Darklings and having our Virtual Varuna that I kicked some kind of override switch.
And just in case we were in any doubt about whether or not this was going to be a better day, I’ve also been granted a stay of execution… or at least persecution. My sister called this morning, and I thought it was to confirm the arrival time of their flight for Nana’s scheduled return home today. The one thing I didn’t expect her to say, of all the possible things she could have said, was “I had a call from St Andrews this morning, and they’ve offered her another fortnight’s respite,” but that, my friends, is what they said to her and what she then said to me. Talk about rescue at the 11th hour. I just spluttered down the line, scarcely able to believe the change of fortune. Needless to say, she leapt on the offer the second she recovered her own power of speech. Oh, the RELIEF. What I didn’t know until yesterday is that Nana has no recollection of her life prior to St Andrews, no concept of home being elsewhere, and no desire to return to wherever the hell Kate’s threatening to take her to. She can’t understand what it’s all about, nor why she has to move anywhere at all. Well, unfortunately the reprieve is only going to last another two weeks, but seriously, that feels like the best Christmas ever. I am still in shock. Happy shock.
So there you go, the pendulum swings and moods improve and things get better. One of the other things I noticed yesterday, when I started emerging from the fertility fog, was that I called up a couple of friends I hadn’t spoken to in ages. I initiated contact because I wanted to know how they were and realised I didn’t really know. I didn’t want to talk about myself, I wanted to hear about them, and it’s only now as I reflect on the last few weeks that I realise all that looking inward was perhaps a symptom of this drug’s effect on me. I wonder if it wasn’t almost a form of depression, because certainly every single person I’ve ever known with depression has also been sort of narcissistic and self-absorbed, and that’s exactly how I’d characterise my own recent obsessions with self. Interesting from a purely intellectual perspective, but frightening at the same time.
Thanks for bearing with me.