You can tell which of my posts I actually sit down to write on a computer versus the ones I throw together with grammatical vomit on my smartphone. It’s a pretty noticeable difference. Lately though there’s been a lot of “grammatical vomit” around me in my day-to-day experience as well. Many different thoughts race through my head as I am continuing to experience withdrawal symptoms following my cessation of an anti-depressant medication. More feelings of anxiety and uncertainty tend to creep in on an inconsistent basis which means even though I quit paying admission, I’m still riding the roller coaster.
Most of what I feel is physical. I am still subject to the same headaches I would suffer when I tried to quit cold turkey last spring for the third time. It didn’t bother so much if I could keep myself busy but since I changed jobs from blue to white collar I find myself unable to ignore the pain. Wearing khaki slacks, a collared shirt, and sitting in a cubicle is bad enough. When you add an embedded pain seated inside of your skull that feels like someone is squeezing the left hemisphere of your brain with a bench vice it makes it that much more enjoyable. Really though it’s not as bad as it used to be when it felt like someone was yanking up on my eyeballs from the inside out. (This is usually how I deal with things, latent optimism with a heavy helping of sarcasm.)
The other portion, emotions, is the easy part really. Sure I tend to over analyze social interactions causing depressive thoughts and I because I physically feel like dog shit I tend to alienate my friends and family and spend more time alone but it won’t be like this forever right? Relationships can always be fixed right?….Right?
All of this internal battle is really frustrating. I keep wanting to be instantly gratified and freed from my suffering. I feel like I deserve it after all the hell from within I’ve numbed over the last 9 years. The medication sure did the trick by keeping me from offing myself but I really don’t recall a strong warning from my psychiatrist saying it was going to beat the functionality right out of my liver. My parents do but all I could think about at the time was surviving. Now that I’m on the other side of cessation I ask myself, “was it worth it?” I cannot answer definitively.
I feel like I’ve been cheated. Why can’t I be perpetually happy? If I can’t be perpetually happy why can’t I take medication that doesn’t give me liver cirrhosis? If I can’t get such a medication why can’t I function without jitters and depressive uncertainty? Nobody knows. What I do know is that I’m not getting off the ride anytime soon so I had better get a tighter grip.