Total Pageviews

Monday, 25 June 2012

Depression straight to DVD sequel.

So, here's something neat. Every morning I wake up and this dialogue plays in my head.
Me: "Well....I have never felt this miserable before."
Brain: "Actually Pete, you have. Yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that."
Me: "So it seems like I try to rationalise it, and make it seem a one off occasion, when it is in fact...every single day that this happens and I try to ignore it?"
Brain: "Yep, it would explain why you want to sit inside in the dark all day, like a Bejewelled loving Howard Hughes."

The Way of the Future...The way of the future...The way of the future...DAMMIT I need a  star gem!

And on such a delightful note, this blog begins. It helps to write about this, so I figured I'd do like a...mid-season recap? I don't know. Let's call it an update from the front, with trenches and shrapnel replaced by this url with a handy list of symptoms and whatnot.
So I've been on prozac for about 6 weeks, and I've had therapy twice.
Do I feel different?
Yes. I feel like there's less of a filter affecting what I say or do, which is neat for the most part, as I'm able to say or do what I'd like instead of having some 'mental weight' on me. But I'm not 100%. Obviously.
Also Prozac genuinely makes me shift from apathetic and sad  to...more apathetic and less sad. So I'm not exactly happy...which is the main thing in all honesty.
Mopity mope mope.
There's a lot of little...'ticks' so to speak, that are caused by it and are kind of interesting (in a sense) to note down or observe.
One of the more notable ones was the fact I spent an entire week listening to nothing but one Fleetwood Mac album repeatedly (Tango In The Night...if anybody is interested).
This isn't because I really like Fleetwood Mac (even though I do) or that one album (Even though I do), it's because for some reason I was literally incapable of even listening to anything else, playing anything other than FleetWood Mac became a task on par with colonising the moon or piloting a fighter Jet, just completely unfathomable and unheard of.
Here's a re-enactment.

Me: I'm going to listen to some Iron Maiden.
Me: But...Iron Maiden, or Elvis Costello.
Me: Oh ok..
Me: *Sobs*.

I'd like to say that was all hyperbole or exaggerated nonsense, but it isn't. Songs I loved did absolutely nothing for me, and all I listened to was the same 10 odd Fleetwood Mac songs for a week, like an Orwellian playlist.
It'd never work out, that bird's bigger than me.

So yeah...I'm still severely depressed.
It sucks.
I suck.
I want some Lemon Meringue.

No comments:

Post a Comment