04 November 2006

Can I really tell in just a few days?

Main Entry: psy·cho·so·mat·ic
Pronunciation: -s&-'ma-tik
Function: adjective

It's been two days since I began AD2v2 (anti-depressant 2, version 2). I hope you appreciate me donating my body to science like this. V1 nearly killed me, or so I fancifully imagine (wish?), but at any rate, stabbing abdominal pain in conjunction with a new medication does not an un-depressed person make. Follow me?

I don't want to jump to conclusions (although if you buy me a jump-to-conclusions mat, I might think about it), but I think I can already tell a difference. Three, four days ago, I was a fucking wreck. I try to keep that from you, Internet. You're a good friend, I don't want to burden you. I can't even... A few days ago and I can hardly remember my mind-state.

My dishes hadn't been done in over a week. I had no clean dishes or cups. I also had an infestation of fruit flies, to the point where when I turned on the kitchen light, I could see a black swarm cloud rise from the horizontal surfaces they were resting upon. Trash was piled by the bag and box by my door, having been there for nearly a month. Filthy laundry was slowly creeping out of my closet and creeping across the bedroom floor towards my bed, or freedom, depending. I hadn't gone grocery shopping in ages (although I had groceries delivered several weeks ago) and what was in my fridge had turned long ago.

I was in a Bad Place.

Ideas of self-commitment drifted across my plane of thought multiple times daily. Suicidal idealization presented itself frequently (the mere idea of suicide, not the wishing for or planning of). My life was completely out of my control, and while a part of me was scared, on the whole I just didn't care. I didn't care if I got better, if I lived or died. I didn't see the point in making the effort for it to get better, yet I kept all my appointments with my shrink, and did the rounds with new and varied anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications.

This morning, I woke up, took out the trash, washed the dishes, cleaned out the fridge, and went grocery shopping. Clothing is sorted and bagged for the trip to the laundromat tomorrow, and I feel a sense of relief, or as if a small weight has been lifted, and breathing is a little easier.

But that's not to say that when I rub lotion on, post-shower, the unbidden thought flits across my mind that my skin will be soft and fragrant when the EMTs come for my body.

I can't explain why my mind thinks the things it does, but I can only hope that the medication will continue to help.

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