in me

Nothing frightens, titillates and thrills like a prescription antidepressant that:

  1. Requires a liver function test before you can take it.
  2. Carries a starkly-worded paragraph about what signs of mania or dementia I should watch out for in myself, in the initial weeks.

I’ll hazard a guess and say that I am probably expected to cloister myself if I do turn crazy, and scream out my bitter demented rage to the walls of my bedroom. World, meet Valdoxan, the fourth antidepressant I’ve been prescribed since May. Valdoxan nips at the heels of Lexapro, Zispin and Lustral, three drugs that haven’t had any perceptible effect on my mood; in reflection of the time I’ve been on the three drugs I’ve come to believe that education about major depressive disorder, coaching myself to avoid the triggers, and micromanaging my moods have done more for my well being. Let’s see, now:

  • Lexapro made every morning feel like I had just come down from an epic binge.
  • Zispin – which I took but once – drugged me into unconsciousness for two days straight.
  • Lustral was/is Zispin-lite. I’ve been asleep for up to fourteen hours at a stretch and experience incredible (ongoing) difficulty in coming awake.

So apparently I’m hyper-sensitive, for whatever reason, to that portion of a given medication that induces drowsiness. I’ve always been a low-energy person, but I didn’t consciously realize how badly I was being affected until my counsellor pointed out that I should never be in a situation where I feel I have to stop taking my medication because it is so seriously impairing my ability to function. And, yeah, they were impairing my function: I’ve missed more than one important appointment because I was simply unable to wake up, and I’ve declared myself unreliable at 091 Labs because I couldn’t give any guarantee about when I may be awake.

In that spirit: If I vanish off the Earth for a few more days, sorry!

March 20

in me

Happy Dissonance

in me

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