 ©1999-1999 ICFTP What're you, kidding? |
7 April 1999:
Ugh. Exhausted. I would've thought that staying in bed until 2pm or so yesterday, going back to bed around 5 and sleeping till 8 or 9 would have had me rested enough to face today all bright and chipper.
Wrong.
On top of that, this makes two days in a row I've forgotten to eat my Paxil, and I can feel the darkness at my center waking up.
I'm here to tell ya chilluns, that Paxil stuff works. If you have any kind of problem with depression, please go and talk to your doc about the possibility of anti-depressants (seratonin re-uptake inhibitors, in my case.) For as long as I can remember, I have slipped down into blackness for no readily apparent reason. I always thought of it as my particular cross to bear, just a fact of life. That's wrong. This prescription has made such a huge difference in my life. I feel emotionally stable and solid for the first time, ever. I cannot imagine what my life would be like if I had had this stuff when I was a fucked up fifteen year-old. I don't think I would necessarily want to go back and change things, because pain is certainly a powerful teacher, but goddamn, I would have saved myself some tears.
As far as I can tell, the only side effect of my daily use of this drug has been to lengthen the time it takes me to achieve orgasm. I've been told (by a female) that drugs like Prozac do the same thing, although in her case she was pissed because it took her so long to come, and in my case it's more or less a good thing.
The drug seems to give me a stable platform to exist on. It keeps me from sliding down into the blackness when there's actually nothing wrong. It doesn't stop me from feeling bad, but it does stop me from feeling bad for no reason.
My creative ability has stabilized. I don't panic anymore when confronted with a project. I just do it. I feel capable, steady.
I have felt for a long time that it was a bad thing to rely on a chemical substance for my feeling of well-being. I've since changed my mind. My chemistry is, either because of my environment or a genetic defect, unbalanced. I eat a daily dose of this substance to bring my chemical balance back in line. It's not a myth. It's real. It works. I am healthier and happier.
They won't let me attempt the bone marrow transplant if I am depressed.
Tales of a Theraflu Junkie:
Who is this Nick guy, anyway? Everything you wanted to know about Nick, but where absolutely (and wisely) terrified to ask.
8 April 1999:
Random useless information of the day:
Reading material in Trey's bathroom!
If I don't have something to read in the bathroom, I read shampoo bottles. I read feminine hygeine product boxes. I figure out how to pronounce the chemical compounds in hair conditioner. Books migrate in and out of my bathroom, usually leaving more swollen and moisture-worn than when they entered. Oh well.
Currently, on the little silver shelves, there resides:
- Stephen King: Different Seasons
- The Playboy issue with Lisa Rinna pregnant. Holy God! I don't care HOW many times I've looked at her... hoo boy. And there's a couple of pages of the chick who handles Playboy's cyber-chat. She uses a Mac. She's an amateur photographer. Sigh. Hot computer geeks - why aren't there MORE of them?
- 1995 Photo Source, so I can find out of date info on photo supplies across the country. I particularly like looking at the old ads for digital services houses. Hehehe.
- Amiga 3000 Users Manual: yes, I really do have an Amiga user's manual in my bathroom, and I really do read it, and I really have read through all the pinouts and wiring diagrams. It's actually a really well written manual, from an age when a GUI was a revolutionary way to interact with a computer. I loved that computer. It kicked ass. 25mhz 68030 powerhouse! :)