A Prescription for the Noise

Today I did a very brave thing.

I went to the chemist and picked up my Zoloft prescription. It's been in my desk drawer for a month or two. But today, as a gift to me, I decided it was time to take control.

I cannot continue crying at everything. Not just sad things. Not just meaningful things. But things, everything. A song. A memory. A rabbit at the end of the road (don’t ask).

I am homesick for a place and time I can never live in (unless time travel is an option). Anxious about a house that doesn’t yet exist, and emotionally spiralling about my son moving to the UK, which hasn’t even happened yet. My heart and brain are working overdrive.

We are about to build a house. Which is meant to be exciting. But currently feels like emotional Jenga, played during an earthquake, while blindfolded.

Every decision feels monumental:

• “Do we want this floor tile?”

• What if the tile represents a seriously "bad taste" choice and we live to regret it?

  
  

I’ve reached the point where my internal dialogue sounds like “I should be able to cope, I am capable of making a decision.” “I used to cope, make sound decisions, and with conviction." “Why can’t I cope?”

STOP this procrastination! Cue crying.

So today I decided, enough. I am not failing. I am not weak. I am not “losing it", (well maybe just a little - but who isn't?).

I am just a human who has:

• big feelings

• a big life transition or two

• and a nervous system that has officially sent an email marked URGENT

  
  

Zoloft, dear friend, I am not asking you to fix my life. Just maybe lower the volume a bit. I would still like to feel things. Just not EVERYTHING, all the time, at once.

I’d like to think about my son without my chest collapsing like a poorly constructed IKEA shelf.

I’d like to plan a house without catastrophising that it symbolises the permanent end of all joy I once knew.

I’d like to cry when it makes sense.

So yes. I picked up the script. Because sometimes self-care isn’t candles or yoga or journalling.

Sometimes it’s saying, “I need help to get through this and that’s ok.”