I cried, bawled, and screamed for four hours straight. Jethro and Hunter stayed right by my side, and Abby matched my crying pitch for pitch. I went through half a box of Kleenex. I sniveled through a bowl of oatmeal, then cried for another hour. I found The Philadelphia Story on television, and it made me feel better. Then I realized what was wrong.
You know that insurance cut off the Cymbalta I was taking for fibromyalgia, and gave me ten days notice. I did some research, and found out Cymbalta is one of the hardest drugs to taper and has a nasty withdrawal. I've had more pain, which I expected, but also more energy, and that's a trade that I'm happy to make. I've been watching myself for depression, and haven't seen any. But today I've been dealing with heightened and labile emotions, and Cymbalta withdrawal is to blame. It's hard to taper because the lowest dose made is 30 mg, so you have to open the capsules and count the beads, and you need at least six months for a good taper. All I could do is take 60 mg once a day instead of twice, for ten days, then go off. If this is all I do, I'm doing very well.
The result of all this emoting, besides a pile of wet used Kleenex, is a new board on Pinterest: For Elephants and Dogs. I found wonderful things. Did you know that elephants are the only animals besides humans that have funeral and mourning rituals? And their hippocampus is better-developed than ours. They put us to shame in so many ways. So I suppose I was being elephantine today.
As my body regains its physical and emotional balance, I will try to take care of myself. I'll watch comedy when I need to. I will probably have tomorrow for self-care, judging by the rate of snow coming down and the increasing wind.
Thanks for listening to me this morning. I'm glad you didn't have to see what I looked like by the end of it! I know you never minded seeing me cry, but I hated having you see what I looked like. I'm better now that I know what's going on.
Love you as much as an elephant loves,