I was really, really hoping my first post of 2018 would be non-Sad-Ghost depression related, but seeing how we're three days in and I shall be leaving the house for the very first time today since New Year's Eve* simply to get my meds adjusted, I guess I should just break the seal already.
*The highlight of the evening was me bailing on a party several hours early because I forgot how to human. You know that feeling when you're trying to make small talk with a stranger and suddenly can't remember what kind of facial expression is appropriate for the words coming out of their mouth? So you focus too much on what your face is doing and completely miss that they've asked you a question until they're just staring at you in confusion while you smile at them all psycho-Joker-style? Or when the whole room is laughing about something and you're consumed with panic because what if you try to laugh and start crying instead? No? Just me? Okay.
**But a Lyft arrived like one minute after my brain officially NOPED out and they didn't charge surge pricing! I came home and watched cooking shows all night instead and fell asleep at a nice, reasonable hour.
I swapped anxiety meds after noticing that I'd fall into a deep depressive crash a few hours after taking an Ativan, while Xanax simply makes me suuuuuper sleepy. Both side effects are generally tolerable when we're talking the "pacing the bedroom floor at 2 a.m. simultaneously stressing in equal amounts about my kid's math grade and genocide in Myanmar" type of anxiety, but neither are ideal for the "I'd like to function reasonably well during a social event without feeling the overwhelming urge to go crawl under the coat pile in the guest room" kind of scenarios.
I also turned 40, which...was fine. It's fine. It's not all panicked doom and gloom, I swear. I got my hair done and treated myself to not one, but two new ceiling fans. (Which I haven't actually installed or taken out of the boxes or anything; let's not lose our heads here.) But they have been chosen and they exist and I can soon cross "bitching about ugly ceiling fans" off the Yellow House to-to list for the first time in two years. This is tremendous progress and I am here for it.
Let's see, what else.
Noah's been doing this thing where he sneaks downstairs wayyyyy after bedtime to grab a midnight snack, which would be totally fine except 1) he's sneaking like an entire box of expensive hippie chocolate bars at a time, 2) I did not realize he was doing this and couldn't figure out why we were going through the expensive hippie bars so quickly, 3) I found all the wrappers under his bed and THAT'S HOW YOU GET ANTS, LANA, and finally 4) I caught him doing it during our Black Mirror season 4 binge, and when I escorted him back up to his room to talk about the effects of late-night energy bar consumption on his sleep patterns and dental health I discovered that he'd literally built a working robot army, transistor radio and solar panel farm out all those great STEM-focused Christmas gifts he received.
This is obviously impressive but also probably going to rise up and destroy me should I fail to provide an adequate supply of midnight snacks.
Meanwhile, Ezra's using his Christmas presents to build sandwich monsters.