5:18 AM. Pwned by Wellbutrin.
I started taking Wellbutrin about six months ago after noticing a general feeling of ennui.
It formulates a different plan of attack than Prozac and Zoloft, which for the most part, just left me feeling stoned and gave me a vague impression of living underwater, if that makes sense. Prozac, Zoloft, and their immediate family work by fucking around with your serotonin, supposedly making you happier but really just costing a lot. Wellbutrin, on the other hand, once swallowed, doesn't dissolve, but the entire pill actually travels from your stomach to your ear, via telekinesis, where it creeps up to your eardrum and shouts: GET THE FUCK OUT OF BED AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE WITH YOUR DAY, YOU LAZY BITCH, OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO BE EMO ABOUT, which is sometimes exactly what you need.
So I'm pleased. General sense of apathy has lifted, basic day-to-day activities like driving to the bank or folding laundry do not seem unbearable, no longer consider flinging self off cliff over things like chapped lips or dropped cell phone calls, stopped smoking, and already healthy sex drive is now incredibly frighteningly alarmingly healthy (whether this one is a blessing or curse remains to be seen).
BUT. As is the case with anything good, there is a price. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. It convinces your body that you really only need about 6 hours of sleep a night. The weird thing is, your body will totally agree. You won't feel tired during the day, you won't have dark circles under your eyes, you won't need any more coffee than usual to start the day, but it's still a very odd feeling to wake up at the exact same ungodly early hour every morning and know that you couldn't go back to sleep even if you ran headfirst into the wall.
So yeah, pwnd by Wellbutrin.
[BUT. Better pwned and alive than unpwned and walking around like the living dead. And the first person that says 'I could never take antidepressants. // They're all just chemicals. // I don't trust them. // I tried Prozac/Zoloft/etc and that didn't work so this won't either. // You don't really need them. // It's all in your head. // It's just a clever plan by the pharmaceutical companies to make money. // The real cure for depression is to stay busy/pray/get more sunlight. // Blah Blah Blah.' is going to suffer a terrible fate. Oh yes. Coz this invariably happens every time I mention the subject IRL and you'll see me on the evening news someday soon when I get tired of it and finally flip my shit. Maybe they've already figured out the secret to life or maybe the damp vacuous spaces in their heads are just incapable of any real emotions at all. Either way, anyone that feels the need to invalidate me with their asshat geometry is a wretched diseased whore and I hope they choke on the self-righteous words spewing from their filthy mouth. /wrath]
K. Just thought I should share in case any of you lot are feeling the ennui too. Sometimes the answer to depression isn't somehow becoming 'happier' - a rather polite approach, IMO - but the thing to do is bludgeon it to death with a hammer, piss on the corpse, and set the remains on fire, which is much more effective. You see? Or maybe none of this applies to you and it's not my fucking place to tell you what's up. Either way. S'aight.
That is all. Kthnxbye.
It formulates a different plan of attack than Prozac and Zoloft, which for the most part, just left me feeling stoned and gave me a vague impression of living underwater, if that makes sense. Prozac, Zoloft, and their immediate family work by fucking around with your serotonin, supposedly making you happier but really just costing a lot. Wellbutrin, on the other hand, once swallowed, doesn't dissolve, but the entire pill actually travels from your stomach to your ear, via telekinesis, where it creeps up to your eardrum and shouts: GET THE FUCK OUT OF BED AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE WITH YOUR DAY, YOU LAZY BITCH, OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO BE EMO ABOUT, which is sometimes exactly what you need.
So I'm pleased. General sense of apathy has lifted, basic day-to-day activities like driving to the bank or folding laundry do not seem unbearable, no longer consider flinging self off cliff over things like chapped lips or dropped cell phone calls, stopped smoking, and already healthy sex drive is now incredibly frighteningly alarmingly healthy (whether this one is a blessing or curse remains to be seen).
BUT. As is the case with anything good, there is a price. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. Insomnia. It convinces your body that you really only need about 6 hours of sleep a night. The weird thing is, your body will totally agree. You won't feel tired during the day, you won't have dark circles under your eyes, you won't need any more coffee than usual to start the day, but it's still a very odd feeling to wake up at the exact same ungodly early hour every morning and know that you couldn't go back to sleep even if you ran headfirst into the wall.
So yeah, pwnd by Wellbutrin.
[BUT. Better pwned and alive than unpwned and walking around like the living dead. And the first person that says 'I could never take antidepressants. // They're all just chemicals. // I don't trust them. // I tried Prozac/Zoloft/etc and that didn't work so this won't either. // You don't really need them. // It's all in your head. // It's just a clever plan by the pharmaceutical companies to make money. // The real cure for depression is to stay busy/pray/get more sunlight. // Blah Blah Blah.' is going to suffer a terrible fate. Oh yes. Coz this invariably happens every time I mention the subject IRL and you'll see me on the evening news someday soon when I get tired of it and finally flip my shit. Maybe they've already figured out the secret to life or maybe the damp vacuous spaces in their heads are just incapable of any real emotions at all. Either way, anyone that feels the need to invalidate me with their asshat geometry is a wretched diseased whore and I hope they choke on the self-righteous words spewing from their filthy mouth. /wrath]
K. Just thought I should share in case any of you lot are feeling the ennui too. Sometimes the answer to depression isn't somehow becoming 'happier' - a rather polite approach, IMO - but the thing to do is bludgeon it to death with a hammer, piss on the corpse, and set the remains on fire, which is much more effective. You see? Or maybe none of this applies to you and it's not my fucking place to tell you what's up. Either way. S'aight.
That is all. Kthnxbye.