Sep. 27th, 2011

treefrog: screenshot from Iron Man (Selfcreation)
I've about 90% made up my mind to go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss changing antidepressant/ anti-anxiety medication. I'm on the biggest dose of Effexor I've ever been on, and while I'm okay, it's a borderline thing, and it would take only the smallest nudge, next to nothing at all, to drop me back into the black hole where my humanity can't quite follow.

Weeks of insomnia are alternating with weeks of constant, restless sleep. I can feel the pitch-black weight of dread poised to settle in the pit of my stomach. I feel the familiar panic building in my muscles, ready to race through my body like sick, polluted lightning. I feel the stiff, isolating numbness creeping over my face like hardening clay while in the back of my head the screaming is starting and I know if I don't do something soon, it will grow until it drowns out all thought and leaves me paralyzed with fear and confusion.

I don't want to do this. Switching antidepressants is a bit like having someone rearrange everything in your kitchen, and then ask you to make dinner with a blindfold on. The new arrangement may be infinitely better than the old one, but that doesn't mean you have a clue how it works yet, and there are no instruction books for this sort of thing. Navigating the sudden mismatch between body and brain is exhausting and off-putting and sometimes it's tempting just to quit and settle back into the depression because at least it's familiar.

But I don't have that "luxury". I have a husband and a stepkid. I have school. I have people who need me... hell, I need me, and it's not like this is my first rodeo. I've hurt worse than this. I've kept on walking with less juice in my tank than this. I've kept on walking when my circuits were so fried with this mental bullshit that my body felt like a huge lump of pain a million miles away, a breathing corpse operating on memories of being alive. I've always kept on walking, kept on walking, kept on walking. I'm not about to quit now. I wouldn't even if I could.

And with this entry, I've voiced my protest and I'm good to go. That's right, Depression, Anxiety and the rest of you sniggering little trolls in the internet forum of my brain, I hate you all and having said that, I will cease to pay attention to you. Tomorrow, I'm going to the doctor and one way or another, you lot are all going back to the filthy void that spawned you.

Whereas I will be going swimming with my husband, taking another step towards being okay.

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treefrog

September 2012

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