Now have strange Irish medicines, but hey, at least I'm breathing without trouble and I don't want to fall asleep at the desk.

Strange name or strange ingredients?

The Boy is officially the boyfriend, BTW. As in, he actually used the B word this weekend.

And yes, I am rather happy about that.

BUT. Oh, the perils of an adult relationship. He has depression that, when it gets bad, is worse than mine. He also has OCD and ADD. It's all a very bad combination, though generally managed with meds.

Except that his doctor has been shuffling his meds around, which, as I'm all too aware, can fuck with your brain something fierce. So he decided to stop taking one of his new drugs because he thought it was making him irritable. Which it might have been, BUT he was also tapering off a different drug at the same time, and *that* can cause irritability, too.

So, yeah. He just randomly stopped taking the drug that's supposed to have an anti-anxiety effect on him. And he hasn't taken his Ritalin in a few days (or more), and that's a longer story than I have the energy to get into.

No Ritalin means he's having the hardest time in the world concentrating, which means he doesn't get anything done without someone there to keep him on track, which means his house is a disaster area -- no, REALLY -- and he hasn't been able to straighten it up without someone (read: ME) there to gently remind him to stay on track.

But then he gets all stressed about his house, and because he's not taking the anti-anxiety drugs, that just becomes an cycle that feeds on itself. He feels overwhelmed and doesn't know where to start, and so he just gives up.

His mood has been (no surprise) ping-ponging all over the place for the past couple of weeks. Last night he was as non-functional low as I've ever seen him, and it scared the crap out of me. Last night was also when I first found out that he just randomly stopped taking the anti-anxiety medication.

He has an appointment with his therapist today. He and I talked about needing to get his meds straightened out, that just randomly stopping a psychoactive drug isn't a good idea, etc. We talked about the fact that he needs to lay out really clearly for his therapist the kind of mood swings he's been having, and their severity, and the fact that he's been not taking his meds.

I know, all too well, what it's like to be in the grip of bad depression. And how that makes you feel non-functional and frustrated and out of control and (often) angry as hell. (He and I have talked about that, too -- the fact that I know from the inside out what he's going through.)

And because I know what it's like, I know -- more or less -- what he needs from other people right now. Support, and company, and a helping hand. And that's exactly what I'm going to do -- what I *am* doing.

That said, I think you all know from hearing about my Dad's heart-disease saga how HUGE my issues are around being the "caretaker." I don't want to do it. The Boy called last night, like I said, as low as I've ever seen him, and all I wanted to do was watch Studio 60 and fold laundry and go to bed (alone). He scared the crap out of me, and I asked him if I could do anything (praying that he wouldn't ask me to come over to his place, because, like I said, it really is a disaster area and all the pet hair makes me not breathe), and he asked if he could come over to my place.

I said of course, and asked if he wanted to stay over. So he came over, and I made him some dinner, and we talked a little bit, like I said above, and then we went to bed. He crashed hard, the instant he crawled into bed. In 30 seconds, he was snoring like a big fat old man.

I'm glad I can be there for him, offer him a haven, and I fully intend to keep doing so, but I have to tell you, when he asked if he could come over, and I said of course -- after I hung up the phone, I spent about 5 full minutes on the couch just muttering over and over, "I can't DO this. I CANNOT fucking DO this."

I don't want to be the caretaker. And yet I understand what a fucking hypocrite that makes me, given how bad my depression has been in the past (and, odds are, will be again in the future). But I (continued...)

( continues...) don't want to be the caretaker. I don't, I don't, I don't, and it makes me just want to unplug my phone when I get home tonight, because I just don't want to deal. With every fiber of my being, I don't want to deal.

But I will. Because I really do care about him SO much, and that's what you do in a relationship.

Er....wow. I guess I really needed to core-dump, there.

But I will. Because I really do care about him SO much, and that's what you do in a relationship.

Aw, Steph. It is what you do. But that also has to go both ways. The balance has to shift so that one person isn't ALWAYS the caretaker. Which, I'm sure, you already know. I hope the meds situation gets sorted and the boy gets back on track.

is should be isn't.

Strange name or strange ingredients?

Strange different. Apparently paracetemol is codeine. Which is in my cough-drop-like hot drink right now.

The Boy is officially the boyfriend, BTW. As in, he actually used the B word this weekend.

Woo!

But I think you have the right idea--you don't need to be his caretaker. You're just helping him outline what he needs to do so he can take care of himself. Sometimes people need that push, but I don't think he wants or expects you to take care of him, like perhaps your dad does. You're just seeing something he doesn't have the perspective to see and pointing out what he needs to do to help himself. It's really up to him to fix it.

{{{Teppy}}}

I understand that all too well. WIth my mom's chronic illness throughout my childhood and on, I've been caretaker a LOT. And now, even though I know it's petty and mean and selfish, when Stephen simply gets sick (just garden-variety sick, he doesn't have depression or other health issues) I'm resentful. I don't *want* to bring him tea or soup or anything else.

I'm the caretaker for my kids, which is sort of different (inside my brain) and even then I resent it sometimes -- the 24/7-ness of it. But caring for someone else that way raises all sorts of old issues and resentments (which have more, for me, to do with not being able to *take care of* everything if Person I Love is seriously ill, or dies, and feeling helpless), so I get where it's pushing your buttons.

That said, I love my mom. And I know it wasn't her fault that she needed so much care for so much of my life. She's actually healthier now than ever, despite the bum joints. Which makes being with her now a lot more lighthearted and casual, which is so nice.

Teppy, it sounds like you DID take care of yourself.

Going over there would have been too much for you. Him coming over you actually could do.

And if him coming over and the talking is too much for you, him coming over and just sleeping could work.

You can find those places where you take care of both of you -- its very different than "phone rings. tep jumps. life goes on hold for _____"

And, as you know, sometimes he'll be taking care of the both of you.

Strange different. Apparently paracetemol is codeine. Which is in my cough-drop-like hot drink right now.

I thought it was just acetaminaphen.

The Boy is officially the boyfriend, BTW. As in, he actually used the B word this weekend.

Yay, Teppy! I hope the Boy gets all his meds straightened out. Also, what Cashmere said. Taking care of someone can be hard, but it is easier if you know that they're someone you can rely on when you are down.