My Dealer and I

A nice surprise. No lamotrigine, no carbemazepine, actually he came up with the idea of trying Effexor alone. I was sort of surprised, as it was his first suggestion and I was okay with it. So I’ve already taken the first pill. It has made me feel a little spacey and pukey, but that’s alright. Hopefully, it will be the solution, and will work fast enough to get me functional by the time I need.

And I’m off to the races trying to get everything done that I need to this week. I got a call from my third job that they need me to come do something. This job isn’t worth the hassle, not enough money to be worth my time anymore. But I always feel so fucking guilty and obligated. When that phone call came in, I almost lost it, almost broke down crying right then and there. One more thing that is going to take a half day or whole day that I have to run and do. I am so, so achingly tired.

I have a new med that doesn’t make me panic at the thought of swallowing it, though I do suspect it will kill my emotions and sex drive. Probably my writing as well. But for now, I can live with any of that, just as long as it gets rid of this horrible insomnia, and inability to sit still. Later, I can worry about being me, having a life that is worth something.

I still came out of there feeling pretty bad. I was late because there was a huge traffic mess on the way, and the thing is, I really am at the end of what I can take here, but I think nobody ever really notices that. “You’re still working, right?” they ask. “Then it can’t be that bad.” I guess maybe they are right. Maybe I really am ok. But I always get the sneaking suspicion that I might be that one kind of person who looks fine and does everything perfectly and then one day jumps off a bridge and everyone says, “What the hell? She just was at work like usual. Nothing seemed wrong.”

Do you have to be unwashed and uncombed to be depressed? I certainly have had those days, but the idea of being homeless because of not paying bills is a huge motivator. I just can’t see how that will help me. I certainly haven’t been working well, not a valuable employee or anything, but I’m not one of those people with a family to fall back on, someone who will help me out of trouble, so I keep showing up.

Anyway, I am exhausted, to put it mildly, and my reserves are winding down. Despite the med solution, this meeting was terribly…well, whatever the opposite of comforting is. Intrusive without really being helpful, misunderstood (again, we both are working in a language that is not our native one, where nuance is often lost), and dismissed. Accused of being too judgmental, the real ache apparently invisible. Exhaustion and more exhaustion. I guess that’s sort of a good description of my life.



  1. You don’t have to be outwardly crazy-looking in order to need some time for self-care. You’re a sensible person, and your feeling that you need a little lying-down time is right. Trust your instinct, or at least think of what you’d think if you were your patient. I hope you can get some breathing room to make this transition a little easier.

  2. Haaaaaa well I am certainly always generous with the sick notes. Problem is just minimal time, unless I push back my start date at the new job. This is actually not as hard as it sounds, but the blow to my ego and confidence might finish me. I’m afraid if I do it, I may never go back. I’m always afraid of ending up on chronic disability or something from this. That seems like it would be a first step in that direction.

  3. Clearly meds are different for everyone, but while this one did kill my emotions and sex drive, the writing was the best it has ever been. Ah irony, and silver linings.

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