Probably the worst entry ever.

Well, I’m here.  I’m writing an entry, and that’s the start of something.  Something good, I hope.

Chemical depression is a bitch.  The last time I took any Cymbalta or Abilify was Friday, November 30.  So, it’s nearly been 2 weeks since I’ve had any anti-depressant in my system, unless you count the 25mg of Nortiptyline that I take for MS pain.  I have a very low level of it in my system, so I don’t count it in the emotional control area of things.  It just helps my legs not be in terrible pain.

The first week off of Cymbalta wasn’t as terrible as I thought it was going to be.  I also was in the hospital having a video EEG.  The second week has been harder. Lots of crying. Lots of curling up in bed and not being able to do anything.  As the week’s gone on, the spontaneous crying jags have been decreasing. I’m thankful for that.

I know that I have a self-care chart that I should be following, and that it would help me. I know that I should welcome the day, and just get with it. I’m no good at following my own advice, though, especially when I want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

The truth of the matter is that I am spending an inordinate amount of energy fending off the desire to self-harm.

I haven’t cut myself since I was a kid/preteen, and it bothers the hell out of me that my thoughts are so persistently dark.

The way that I started handling it when I was younger was to practice music until I blistered and bled or almost broke fingers.  It’s not that hard to do with percussion.  You just play for a really long time. You strive for perfection, and a ticking metronome will tell you that you are almost never perfect.

And I will tell you, when you are depressed already, you already know how imperfect you are.

I suppose I could try to do the same thing now, with guitar.  But I don’t love guitar. And I don’t love piano. But that’s what I’ve got right now.

I’m tired of thinking about how I feel. SICK OF SICKNESS.

All I want to do is sleep all of the time or go to the gym… because there’s no crying while weightlifting.

I don’t even know why I started writing this blog entry other than the fact that I make it my goal to write every day.

So there you go. Some verbal vomit from a pathetic waste of space. Hope you’ve enjoyed.

4 thoughts on “Probably the worst entry ever.

  1. You are made of tough stuff, Rae. Truly. If I could afford a second happy lamp I would totally buy you one. Can you ask your psychiatrist if one would be covered by insurance/would be a viable tool for you, please? For me? Please. Seriously, insurance covers it at least sometimes: is the main page
    I suspect there’s probably a reimbursement element afoot here…

    I bought my BIL the one I showed you on facebook, which is cheaper and apparently pretty freaking amazing.

    I love you.


    • I see my psychiatrist in the middle of January, and I promise I will ask him. It can’t hurt to ask! Thank you for loving me, even when I don’t love myself, Tamara. You’re a wonderful friend. I love you too, very much.

      • But you’re hurting *now,* Rae. Middle of January’s a month away! A month is a *lifetime* when you’re in the situation you’re in. An eternity. Purgatory is probably the appropriate metaphor, now that I think of it.

        It can’t hurt to call him and leave a message to see what he thinks about it at least generally. I mean, he knows you’re coming off this stuff and having a hard time and everything, right?

        And, you're welcome. You're a good friend too. I'm pretty sure whatever zen I have had over law school is related to your ongoing advice. And love is what life is about, right? Love and a happy lamp may be all you need? 😛


      • Believe it or not, mid-January is the soonest he could see me, where Adam could take me down to Romeoville to see him. This whole not-being-able-to-drive thing really gets in the way of seeing doctors when you need to. I can definitely leave him a message about the lamp though.

        Love and a happy lamp. That makes me smile. It also makes me think of Anchorman. “I love lamp.”

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