Sorry for the lack of posts lately. Two reasons for this: Prozac is working well, and I hate my job. I wish I had more to say.
I remember why I went off medication in the first place. That buzzy feeling in your teeth when you’ve just taken the day’s dose. It reminds me of the days I used to trip on acid, when it felt like every nerve in my teeth and in my brain had an electric current going through it. The way your hands tremble. The way your eyes widen to a synthetic alertness. The insomnia. The constantly clenching jaw. The lack of a desire to do anything creative. And when you forget the medication…The headaches, the dizziness. The wonky equilibrium.
I hate feeling medicated. But I keep reminding myself that I was on the verge of death before. I mean, it’s not like I was about to go into heart failure, but the obsessive thoughts and the plans of suicide were growing more and more detailed.
Boredom and meaninglessness are eating me alive. But don’t worry, I’m not thinking about killing myself anymore. I’m just accepting that this is life, and I will wait my turn to die like everyone else.
Sorry for the cynicism. My job is stressing me out so much right now with quadruple the workload as before, which pretty much means every second of my shift is occupied by frantic typing and editing while I struggle to meet deadlines. No breaks to stare out the window at my lovely mountain view. Not a moment to even think about my day-to-day life responsibilities.
But I’m medicated, so I’m working with a smile on my face (more like a jaw-clenched smirk).
And, I can’t seem to leave my house much lately. Saturday after I went to the Guitar Show for my husband, I came home and played video games. When my husband went to work, I played more video games and watched episodes of Dexter. Sunday I was perfectly content to sit on my ass, fold laundry and watch really bad movies.
My friends are asking about me, but I just don’t have the mental time and energy.