in third person
melissa is still plagued by the Plague and is seriously doubting the intelligence in deciding to go off Effexor cold turkey this week (operating under the logic of "already feeling like crap"). melissa wishes the world would stop randomly tilting sideways and the her eyes would stay still. she could do without the ever-fluxing chills and sweats, and she would also like the numb-face to stop. now. and if anyone up there is listening, the constant nausea is just a petty addition to all the other agonies of withdrawal. Effexor is Evil. melissa is amazed she is functional at all today, being day 3 off of the junk, day 6 of the Plague, and only having about 3 hrs sleep in the previous 24hrs. melissa desperately wants to collapse into a puddle of goo but has to remain upright and parently until 3pm. then all bets are off.
melissa is hoping that #1 will be as sympathetic to her current inability to operate as supermom as #2 has been.
ETA: melissa is extremely envious of single-child families at the moment, as this afternoon reintroduced The Walk of Shame into her daily routine. melissa forgot to mention that the physical toll of illness/dumping the meds has severely diminished her quantity of Cope for stressful situations with her kids -- such as this afternoon, when #2 took off running as fast as he could towards a fairly unsafe (in her opinion) intersection by the library while #1 decided at that very instant he had to stop dead in his tracks to put on his jacket.
after catching up with #2 in front of the Grace Manor (while #1 was still dawdling back in front of the library), she officially lost the last of her stash of Cope, grabbed his wrist and chewed him out, picked him up and physically carried him the rest of the way home while castigating both children on their inconsideration, complete and utter refusal to behave like normal people, and what the new "afterschool rules" are regarding all privileges. all while trying very hard to both breathe and not barf.
oh, did she forget to mention that this was preceded by #1 physically restraining #2 and dragging him by the neck down the big slide at school? or #2 fighting back by biting #1 in the armpit as hard as he could?
she's not proud of her behaviour, but quite honestly will worry about feeling guilty over when she's feeling better. or when her children are human again.
upon reflection, #1 seems to have figured out that mommy isn't at her best right now and has quietly settled himself down to watch a movie while melissa hides in a chair under a fleece blanket feeling like a fozen side of beef in a 500F oven. that probably qualifies for "sympathetic"--speaking relatively, at least.