Monday, April 12, 2010

Zoloft, Wherefore Art Thou?

Zoloft stopped almost a month ago. Raging PMS has metamorphosed into just raging, with some obsessiveness and depression thrown in, for added flavour. Ick. Waking up to a psyche that’s drowning in despair, fixated on the absent, the unattainable. It’s like … fighting with a powerful monster. And feeling uncertain of victory.

Or, rather, feeling the certainty of defeat like an incredible, emotional ache shimmeying just beneath my chest’s sternal wall. Hovering about my psyche like an violent dementor. And I reflexively think of doing something, usually drastic, to chase it away. I become emotionally pre-operational. Unable, on most levels, to reason with my perpetually egocentric, emotional self. Unable to grasp perspective. At risk of becoming my emotions. Tearful. The kind of tearful that provides a release valve when the sadness and despair build up to radioactive levels within the psyche. Constrained, by a most virulent depressive mood, to a very primal level of being. Grrrrr. Just not prepared to put up with this. Unwilling to put up with this, particularly when the solution lies easily within reach.

Note to Self: next appointment with Shrink, request Zoloft.


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