Some weeks give you stories to tell.
Some weeks give you little moments worth remembering.
And some weeks leave you sitting there wondering what the actual fuck just happened.
This was one of those weeks.
Sunday Things is going to look a little different this time. Not because I planned it that way, but because I genuinely don’t remember enough of this week to tell you about it the way I normally would.
And honestly?
I’m not entirely sure I want to remember it.
💭 The Days I Can’t Account For
Monday morning started with an asthma attack.
I woke up struggling to breathe, called off work, and made an appointment with my doctor. She prescribed a steroid and a new medication called Singulair to help manage my asthma and allergies, particularly the nighttime symptoms that were contributing to my morning attacks.
I took my first dose Monday night.
Tuesday morning?
I felt phenomenal.
I could breathe. I wasn’t waking up fighting for air. I genuinely thought we’d finally found something that was going to help me.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Tuesday night, I barely slept. I was waking up every two hours, and my period had decided to make an appearance with absolutely no consideration for anything else happening in my life.
By Wednesday, I was exhausted.
I forced myself to go to work because I needed to complete a recertification, but I spent most of the morning lying on the floor with my heating pad until I absolutely had to get up.
I eventually told my manager I needed to leave.
And that’s when things got really fucking weird.
I got home around 9 AM and settled into my recliner.
What felt like fifteen minutes later, my boyfriend’s mom was walking through the door.
It was 3:30 in the afternoon.
Six and a half hours had passed.
I hadn’t been sleeping.
I hadn’t gone anywhere.
I’d just been sitting there.
And I couldn’t account for the time.
Apparently, I video-called my sister five different times that day. I remember two of those calls, and I couldn’t tell you what we talked about.
I do remember looking at my own face on the screen during one of them.
And watching it turn into a skeleton.
Not a filter.
Not something I was imagining for fun.
I was genuinely watching my face change in front of me.
And somehow, in my completely exhausted state, I decided I was probably just tired and needed to get off the phone.
Looking back, that’s terrifying.
At the time, I was too confused to recognize just how wrong things had gotten.
I was losing track of time, forgetting conversations, and barely functioning. I was so out of it that I wasn’t even properly taking care of myself while dealing with an incredibly heavy period.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Again.
At 3:30 in the morning, I messaged my doctor because I genuinely didn’t understand what was happening to me.
I’d slept approximately one hour in two days.
And when I finally did fall asleep?
I had one of the worst night terrors I’ve ever experienced.
I woke up absolutely terrified, ran straight into my boyfriend’s arms, and begged him not to go to work.
I was shaking. My heart was racing. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.
I was scared.
Really fucking scared.
Thursday morning, I contacted my doctor’s office.
I explained what had been happening, and they wanted me to come in.
Great. When?
October 20.
Almost two weeks away.
I made the appointment, but I also made it very clear that I wasn’t taking another dose of Singulair while waiting.
I’d learned that the medication carries an FDA boxed warning for serious mental health side effects, and what I was experiencing was frightening enough that I wasn’t willing to continue taking it.
The worsening depression, anxiety, insomnia, confusion, and hallucinations were more than I could handle.
And I still had no idea how much of my week I’d lost.
🖤 Finding My Way Back
Friday morning, I slept straight through my alarm.
Apparently, my boyfriend woke me up to turn it off.
I don’t remember that.
Apparently, I’d also promised my mom that I’d take my niece to school.
Don’t remember that either.
Needless to say, J was a little late. 😅
Thankfully, my manager was incredibly understanding about everything happening.
I finally got myself into the shower, changed out of the clothes I’d practically been living in all week, and started feeling a little more human.
And then I called my sister.
Immediately, I heard two familiar little voices yelling:
“BLAHBLAH, UP!”
Well.
There went my child-free weekend. 😂
I’d originally planned to attend a concert Saturday and have a date night with my boyfriend Sunday.
But after the week I’d had, I decided the concert wasn’t happening.
And since I was feeling considerably better than I had been, I went and picked up Doodoo and Pooh Boy.
My boyfriend’s mom was off work Friday, so thankfully, I had plenty of help.
Saturday has been wonderfully uneventful.
We’ve stayed inside in our pajamas.
The boys have played.
I’ve occupied my usual spot on the couch.
And I somehow convinced both toddlers to take a nap simply because I wanted a nap.
Pooh Boy slept in the bedroom, and Doodoo curled up with me on the couch.
No big adventures.
No running around.
No plans.
Just a quiet day at home.
And after everything that happened this week?
I’ll take it.
I usually end Sunday Things with some kind of reflection.
Something I’ve learned. Something I’m grateful for. Some little moment that made the chaos worthwhile.
But I don’t have one of those this week.
I don’t think every awful experience needs to become a lesson.
Sometimes things are just awful.
And this week was.
There are entire conversations I don’t remember having. Hours I can’t account for. Moments that frightened me more than I realized at the time.
I’m still not feeling completely like myself, but I’m getting a little better every day.
And right now, that’s enough.
Some weeks are worth remembering.
This is one I’d rather forget.
Until next time,
— Destiny
