I'm going to start this entry but I'm not sure it will actually survive. I'm not 100% sure that the subject is one I want to unleash. But here goes. A while back, actually about 3 years ago I started taking medication for depression. I agreed to do this kicking and screaming for fear that the very fabric of my being was being threatened with extinction; that fabric being my depression, my morbidity, my Eeyore-ism, my cynicism, my sarcasm, all the things that make up my winning personality. Another problem I had with the whole medication thing was the timing. I had just stopped drinking and BOOM, I'm immediately directed to start taking this stuff. But shouldn't we maybe wait and see what I'm like sober first? Apparently not. Once I finally agreed, it was on the condition that 1) I didn't want to gain a million pounds as I've heard some medications blamed for, and 2) I didn't want said medication anywhere near my libido. Who takes depression medication that will erase one's sex life? That's like taking depression medication to make one depressed. So I guess everything proceeded as planned. For 3 years I was sober, skinny, horny and happy, for the most part. The thing about medication though, is at some point you have to stop taking it. At least I do. So that's where I am now. I am taking half my regular dose now and lo and behold, I am sleeping like a house cat. I'm sitting here writing this with plans to go back to bed when I'm finished. I realize I shouldn't and who knows, maybe I won't but I do notice a difference in myself. I don't doubt that everything will balance itself out in the end but in the meantime I feel like crap. It feels like coming off any other drug, which if you've been paying attention, feels like crap. So I'm struggling right now to attend to things that need my attention and to focus on things that aren't related to sleep. I also realized that my cutting back on my medication (supervised by the way) and the fact that my hands look like they've been manicured by a wood chipper, are most likely related. I guess this has a way of making things interesting but I'm not interested in this kind of "interesting". I want outward interesting. I'm sick of inward interesting. I need to decide how to focus my attention and where. I need to get on board with this transition until it's complete. I need to stop channeling wood chippers. I need to stay away from the bed, after this time. Hopefully, I'll be good as new, or good as before; I'm not sure which is the intended goal.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Out With the Old Out With the New
I'm going to start this entry but I'm not sure it will actually survive. I'm not 100% sure that the subject is one I want to unleash. But here goes. A while back, actually about 3 years ago I started taking medication for depression. I agreed to do this kicking and screaming for fear that the very fabric of my being was being threatened with extinction; that fabric being my depression, my morbidity, my Eeyore-ism, my cynicism, my sarcasm, all the things that make up my winning personality. Another problem I had with the whole medication thing was the timing. I had just stopped drinking and BOOM, I'm immediately directed to start taking this stuff. But shouldn't we maybe wait and see what I'm like sober first? Apparently not. Once I finally agreed, it was on the condition that 1) I didn't want to gain a million pounds as I've heard some medications blamed for, and 2) I didn't want said medication anywhere near my libido. Who takes depression medication that will erase one's sex life? That's like taking depression medication to make one depressed. So I guess everything proceeded as planned. For 3 years I was sober, skinny, horny and happy, for the most part. The thing about medication though, is at some point you have to stop taking it. At least I do. So that's where I am now. I am taking half my regular dose now and lo and behold, I am sleeping like a house cat. I'm sitting here writing this with plans to go back to bed when I'm finished. I realize I shouldn't and who knows, maybe I won't but I do notice a difference in myself. I don't doubt that everything will balance itself out in the end but in the meantime I feel like crap. It feels like coming off any other drug, which if you've been paying attention, feels like crap. So I'm struggling right now to attend to things that need my attention and to focus on things that aren't related to sleep. I also realized that my cutting back on my medication (supervised by the way) and the fact that my hands look like they've been manicured by a wood chipper, are most likely related. I guess this has a way of making things interesting but I'm not interested in this kind of "interesting". I want outward interesting. I'm sick of inward interesting. I need to decide how to focus my attention and where. I need to get on board with this transition until it's complete. I need to stop channeling wood chippers. I need to stay away from the bed, after this time. Hopefully, I'll be good as new, or good as before; I'm not sure which is the intended goal.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Sacrifice
I have just recently gnashed off many brave fingernails that dared to mount a comeback on my historically doomed hands. The loss is great. Everything I had worked for is now gnawed back to the stumpy carnage of my less disciplined days. I wonder if I might be vicariously giving myself a haircut through my fingernails. It could be that; or it could be that I'm insecure, anxious, nervous, and whatever else causes one to ritually chew away the tips of themselves. But I am in the market for a haircut so it's probably a combination of things. I go back and forth with this hair issue because some days I have really good hair days, and some days it's all I can do to stay away from scissors. Just when I'm ready to bust down the door of Sal's Barber Shop someone, (an acquaintance) will grab me by the shoulders, look me square in the face and say how good I look, how great my "haircut" is, etc. My friend who is moving to L. fucking A. goddamit is trying to get me interested in moving out there also. In the spirit of open-mindedness I looked at the L.A. personal ads to see what the L.A. chicks look like and look for. Every single one of the ladies that I checked out either stated they wanted feminine women or checked long hair in their "turn on" box. By simply growing my hair I can cross over into another check box. I'm still lost to the feminine seekers no matter how long my hair gets I'm afraid. In fact, if I get to the ponytail stage I might end up looking like a skinny hippy guy. Tragic. One thing is certain; that I must reactivate the no chew zone. As I survey the damage, I'm glad I didn't get to my hair first. This would have been a very different entry.
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