As happy as I was to have permission to quit the Dex, I think I spent a few days going through actual drug withdrawal. Remember the episode of Little House on the Prairie where Albert gets addicted to morphine (which he stole from Doc Baker) and Charles has to take him out to some isolated cabin in the woods to get detoxed? OK, it wasn't quite that bad, but on Sunday and Monday, I felt all shaky and kind of sweaty and irritable and weird and got a really bad headache. I get headaches anyway, so I'm not sure if I can blame the Dex, but I figure Dex deserves blame for all bad things in the world. I'm pretty sure the unrest in the Middle East is somehow caused by Dex.
Anyway. What does it say about me that when I think of "drug withdrawal", my first frame of reference is Little House on the Prairie?
WCK and I made it to library story time yesterday morning, but by late afternoon I had to explain to her that Mommy wasn't feeling very well and needed to rest. She actually accepted this very well and decided that I was her "baby" and brought me a toy baby bottle filled with fake orange juice (I ask you, who gives their baby orange juice in a bottle?) and a maraca from her musical instrument set to be my "rattle". Then she went upstairs to play by herself in her bedroom closet. Playing in her closet is her new passion. She says it's her "house". It's a good thing Child Protective Services didn't stop by to find me lying weakly on the couch holding a festive-looking maraca while my child was shut in a closet upstairs. Mother of the Year.
I feel MUCH better this morning, so hopefully my body is over its craving for Dex. Listen up, body: I don't care what you say. We are not getting back on that poison roller coaster.
"Poison Roller Coaster" would be an excellent name for a band.
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