I used to write.

Jun 28, 2006 12:44

I'm at work. I'm shaking. It's probably the drug cocktail...again.
I've been on Cymbalta for a bit now. It's a Selective Serotonin/Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitor, one of the new class of depression meds. Unlke hte previous gen of meds, these target two of the neurotransmitters whose low levels are thought to trigger the onset of depressive episodes.
It makes me tired. Very tired....not fatigue tired, but no-energy-why-get-up tired.
So the doctor said to take it before bed, and then take Wellbutrin in the morning for some get up and go.
I had panic attacks the last time I took that damned drug. Response? "You're taking it in conjunction with another medication now. Results may vary."

Operators are standing by.

So I'm sitting here, wracked by coiled up nervous tension and shakes. I tell myself its just the adjustment period; this too will pass.

Yeah, I never seem to believe it either.

I feel like I'm falling apart. I'm forgetting things again. I'm getting muscle cramps/pulls. I'm gaining weight again. I'm being very avoidant in regards to my responsibilities.
My focus hasn't improved. If anything, it's been reduced. At least when I am able to focus, things get done rapidly...still haven't lost that--which is probably why I'm still employed, married, and somewhat functional.

I had a moment of introspection last night. I realized just how easy it could be to write off my behavior in many cases as being prone to addictions, but paradoxically for short periods of time. That is, I encounter something, do whatever it is to the exclusion of almost everything else, and then move on to the next shiny object/topic/activity. This goes towards explaining a lot of my behavior patterns and foiables.

Of course, it's incorrect. True addiction is something that you can't just shrug off at the drop of a new topic. It's persistent, corruptive, and exploitable. I do have a few addictions, and these do follow the above pattern. The erratic behavior, therefore, has its genesis in another area.

I used to want to write a book about being a depression survivor. I've done an audit at a few bookstores; books by doctors outnumber books by patients 10 to 1. A depressive person doesn't need to know about dysthemia or the clinical information behind bipolar disorder. It helps somewhat to abate the curiosity, but it doesn't do a damn thing to help you get through the day. Reading something by a person whom has experienced the same feelings, the same outlook, the same pain--reading that and relating to it helps more than any diagnosis can for afflicted people. Because that tells them that they really aren't alone, that there are those that suffer just as much as they do.

After all, it's one thing to hear someone say "Yeah, I was pretty depressed, tried to off myself. I'm much better now," or "I know how you feel...its terrible." It's another matter entirely when you can read about someone's daily struggle to wake themselves, go through the motions of living while feeling like you've already died. Reading about the vaccuum that sucks out their soul every day, and how they try to live with it, how they barely hang on--and sometimes, how they don't. And then reading how they managed to score some measure of victory over this mental plague, some small way they can say they've won...even a pyrric victory can be a source for inspiration and--the forbidden word--hope.

I used to want to write that. I thought I had beaten my demon. I thought I was free.

I'm just too tired now, and the world is turning gray again.
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