My appointment with the therapist went well. She didn't hide behind anything (there wasn't even a ficus in her office!), she was calm and mellow and we talked family history mostly, of course. I'll see her again next week.
Ok, that said, I had to literally tear myself away from my basement this morning. Walking back up the steps after finishing breakfast was like hiking a mountain. Leo and I cried together last night because we were talking about how to deal with me being so sad that I can't even enjoy silly banter that's normal between husband and wife (i.e. of a sexy nature) without taking it personally and feeling attacked for not wanting to have sex right now.
(He's SUCH a good man, by the way. Best husband EVER.)
Anyway, looking up some side effects of this new drug, clonazepam, that I'm on for the hemifacial spasm makes it clear that I'm experiencing one of the "severe" effects of dysphoria. I'm afraid that if I continue to take it, I'll get even worse.
But it's the only thing that's even slightly worked on my spasms! They've gone down to a minimal level now, and I barely even think about them anymore! So the drug! It works!!!
But the drug! It also causes me to be severely depressed!!!
Oh hai, double-edged sword. Thanks for coming to my already really stupid fucking party! Can you please leave now???
If I stop taking the drug, I'll get the spasms back. The spasms made me so sad, I didn't know how to function anymore on not just a daily basis, but on a minute to minute basis.
If I keep taking the drug, I might wind up catatonic in my basement. (Which, given, is a very nice basement, and a good place to go catatonic in, I think. If one has to be catatonic.)
I'm calling my doctor later. But, dammit. DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT.
That is all.