December 11th, 2012
Did I mention I stopped taking ALL my meds?
Yup. ALL OF IT.
I stopped the Lexapro, which I believe I actually wrote about during the process.
And then I was just on the Wellbutrin and I felt like I was taking sugar pills, so I stopped THOSE cold turkey, and I guess I could have been taking sugar pills for all the withdrawal symptoms I suffered.
BUT…I do feel more, now that I’m not slightly anesthetized.
And you may recall that there was a point where I was begging to feel less, I didn’t WANT to feel, I HATED feeling, because I wasn’t feeling GOOD things.
But…I’ve sort of accepted it now. Come to terms with it, as it were.
I don’t feel shitty ALL the time, if I did, believe me, I’d be ingesting pills like water. But when I do feel…down…it seems to be more searing. My birthday, well, I don’t think there’s a pill in the world that could have gotten me through THAT shit, but I just powered through it, went to bed early so it could just be OVER already, and started to feel better the next day.
And that…that’s been my mantra, that it WILL get better, that whatever I’m feeling is temporary, that I can ride it out for a bit if I have to but I don’t have to let it consume me.
The past couple of days have been tough, though. I just feel this sense of…God, how would I say it? Something Wicked This Way Comes, yes, that’s…that’s sort of how I feel in a nutshell. A feeling of dread, a bit of internal and emotional panic.
This is where the pills kicked in, but towards the end there, they didn’t work so much, and I wasn’t so keen on drugging myself up with NO results.
I don’t know how to express this properly – and it feels like sheer blasphemy for me, a writer, to say that – but, it’s odd. The emotional panic? I feel like it’s coming. And I KNOW it’s coming. And yet…
I’m not afraid.
It’s like a train hurtling towards me and I’m a deer in the headlights and I need to run but I can’t, I’m stuck, and that fucking train is going to hit my ass to the MOON.
But I don’t feel afraid.
It’s not that I WANT the pain. I wish there was something I could do to make it go away, honestly. I really do. But, it’s more that even knowing it’s coming…I’m not running from it. I know that when the train runs me over, I will get up again, somehow, scarred, bruised, but still…ALIVE. And now that the fucking pills are gone, my fiction writing has resurged. Things seem more clear…and unfortunately, the pain is a part of that. But…not all of it.
I know this sounds like a depressing post, but…I don’t want any of you who have so thoughtfully expressed concern to be afraid. Because I am not afraid. I am not crying for help. I am FEELING more but I am not afraid of what I am feeling anymore. It’s like…
You know what it’s like (somewhat)? The Matrix. The Matrix where Neo, who has been running and doubting himself and his abilities, finally turns to face Agent Smith. And he gets his ASS kicked in the process but then at the same time…he really comes into himself and finally BLOWS that fucker away.
That’s how I feel, as though I’m at the getting-my-ass-kicked stage, and if I just remember WHO AND WHAT I AM, I will be fine, and I know that, and I can see that, but right now, the blows hurt like hell. But deep down inside, I’m just holding on.
It’s been a rough year, way way rough. So much emotional upheaval and turmoil and…inner reflection.
But I’m okay. And I’m not trying to convince myself…or you, even. I’m just saying, I’m in pain, and I am learning to live with it, not that I am not trying to fix it, but I know that there will always be…something there.
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson