Up Mt. Diablo

Last weekend we had a break in the rain and decided to get out of the house.  So we loaded up in the van and drove up Mt. Diablo (we've never been up before).  And then hiked around the top.

From the observation deck, which appears to be almost brand new.  The view is pretty spectacular, especially when everything is green.

I let Heather use my binoculars and she thought it was pretty great to look at anything and everything through them--even if it was only 3 feet away.

Out hiking the summit-loop trail:

Corinne thought climbing rocks and walking the paths was pretty awesome, but that wasn't going to be feasible once we got on the actual trail around the summit.  She wasn't enthused about the backpack at first, but once we got moving she was fairly pleased.

It was nice to get out and about, even if it took almost an hour to get up the mountain.  There was a line at the entrance gate that was moving incredibly slowly.  And then while we were waiting an ambulance and fire truck came up and passed us.  I'm sure taking the firetruck up the mountain with all the switchbacks and narrow lanes must have been fun.  I'm not sure what the correct protocol would have been if you had met the firetruck while coming down as the firetruck was coming up on the wrong side while passing all of the cars stopped waiting for the gate.  There wasn't room to go anywhere except in reverse.

The firetruck came down shortly thereafter, but we never saw the ambulance again.  So it must have gone down the northern entrance.

Here I am again.

I began tapering off my Zoloft several weeks ago (under medical supervision; I'm not THAT crazy). I've been completely off it for 2.5 weeks. I thought I was doing fine, but a few days ago, I was suddenly a train wreck.

I am drowning. I am suffocating. Any bit of light or joy is fleeting. Only the darkness will last. I know this feeling very well.* I don't like this feeling.

But I deserve it. I am a horrible person, and I should obviously be miserable. I am impatient and snappish, despite there being real arguments to be made that my husband and daughters are some of the awesomest in the history of ever. I can't manage basic chores around the house. I can't focus. What kind of person is only patient or kind or caring or tidy when she is medicated? I'm going through the motions with the girls, but it's all an act. I (try to) do the things and act the way I normally would, but the motivation is all wrong. It feels unnatural, and so difficult. I love my family more than anything, but right now, it wouldn't take much to convince me that any stranger off the street could fill my role here better than I do.

When I'm medicated, I know that my brain chemistry is whacked and the Zoloft simply puts it to rights. That it enables me to be my best, true self.

Without the meds, I know that this useless, pathetic sack of misery is my true self. How could adding something from outside of you reveal your true nature? That doesn't even make any sense. This is who I am.

I'm not sure why I want to post this. Sometimes, I just feel like things need saying.

*Fortunately, I recognize it perfectly, and I know exactly how to make it go away. I emailed my psychiatrist yesterday. I restarted the Zoloft yesterday. It'll take a couple weeks to get back up to my full dose, but I'll be back to enjoying my incredibly blessed life soon. Because I choose happiness over misery, whatever that means about my brain and who I really am.