This probably makes no sense unless you too are on steroids.

I despise being on Prednisone. Due to my back problems, this is not my first rodeo. I always fight the doctor when they say, oh, Prednisone is the answer to your problems. No, I say. It's not. It turns me into a 12-headed monster with no self control. At all.

Yesterday, I had an entire blog post typed up. I decided not to post it right away because I had consumed some wine and on top of the drugs, though it best to see the post in the light of day. I read it today. It was terrible. It made no sense. It sounded like a schizophrenic giraffe with three legs wrote it. If you had read it, well, the legless giraffe would make sense.

I then had to hold back tears because I was unable to communicate with people anymore and should just go ahead and become a hermit with lots of cats that will eat me when I fall down the stairs and die. BECAUSE I AM REASONABLE.

I am exhausted, because Prednisone takes my insomnia and forces it to do lines of coke. Or meth. What keeps you up all night? I was scared to google it. So, I am wide awake. Except, I am exhausted. Oh, and Prednisone makes me anxious. So....right. I am sure you can imagine what having a conversation with me is like right now. Schizophrenic giraffe with three legs anyone?

On top of all of these lovely symptoms, somebody at some point (probably while my insomnia was doing coke AND meth) hit me in the lower back with a 2 X 4. Wheeee. It literally feels like I have a giant, wood shaped bruise on my back. Haha. Not THAT kind of wood. 

I came home from work today, took off my chef coat and pants and crawled into bed for TWO HOURS and watched Kim Kardashian's life unravel while cuddling with the pets. I also may have repinned everything on Pinterest ever. The entire time I kept thinking how completely worthless I am and how I should just clean the house because nobody loves me. Seriously, you guys, THIS IS WHY I HATE PREDNISONE.

I finally dragged my ass out of bed and put on pants and a hoodie and came downstairs to make myself dinner. There were only enough leftovers for one of us, so I left those for the boy. I am currently roasting brussells sprouts and cooking brown rice. Because, you know, those two things go together. I also had some muenster cheese. And may or may not be contemplating putting some jack in my sleepy time tea.

I hate the feeling of being a prisoner in my own head. I know I am being unreasonable. I know that it is the drugs and that I don't actually feel these things. I know all of this. But, it doesn't matter. I feel them just as if they were real. Yes, I have suffered from depression and while similar, this is different. More manic. More unrealistic. 

I was reading the side effects and they list difficulty sleeping (check), dizziness (check), flushing, nervousness (check), increased appetite (check), increased sweating, indigestion (check), or nausea (check.) 

So, I am going to crawl in a hole for the next 6 days while I work through all of this shit. The boy is currently seeking alternate places to live until the crazy stops.