I know it’s been a while since I’ve written anything.
I may have mentioned it before but there are stretches where I’m literally incapable of writing anything. It’s not that the muse isn’t present, it’s just that the will is weak.
For me, writing used to be easy and fun. Now I have to be in the right frame of mind and physically up to do it. So it comes in spurts.
Anyway, I’m in the process of switching meds. My psych is switching out my Lexapro for Cymbalta. And it just took me two minutes to remember the name of the drug. Hell, I’m just popping pills so much I can’t even remember what I’m taking!
I’m on the one week weaning which is always a fun time when you’re taking two SSRIs at the same time. How have I been feeling? A weird kind of mellow is how I would put it.
I’m mellow but confused and forgetful. And, I’m dropping almost everything I touch.
Still, mellow like a hash buzz is better than the Midnight screaming meemies. For those of us who have been trying to find the right med combination for decades, the period between switching one to the other is partly opening the presents on Christmas morning and partly dread. You don’t know the longer lasting effects until weeks pass.
Why Cymbalta? The psych feels it will give me more energy, less lethargy, perhaps an appreciation of golf on TV, I have no idea. I remember I was on it once but I don’t remember why I got off it.
Such is life in the Wide Wide World of Psychotropic Medication.
Occasional Zen-like moments of introspective tranquility – even at work
Appearing and feeling occasionally drunk; balance issues.
Loss of extemporaneous speaking prowess.
Zen state causes me to stare at inanimate objects and contemplate their existence. Staring at a lock on a door: “Wow, always wondered just how locks work with the keys and all that. Fascinating construction. Wonder what metal it’s made of? Beautiful man!”
Earwigs – the songs you hear or just appear in your head become mantras that last a long, long time. Currently, walking down the hall:
Laughter, joy, and loneliness and sex and sex and sex and sex
Look at me, I’m in tatters
I’m a shattered
Cool beans bro.
No I’m just groovin’ to the morning vibes. Don’t ask me how I drive. Man alive, thrive on jive.
I’m a cool poppa, 54 going on 21; what the Hell, it beats curling up in bed hiding from the world, shaking and sweating into the sheets. God love Big Pharma.
Rats on the west side, bed bugs uptown
I’m a creative. I write. I’m in control of my brain though I’m feeling my emotions drain. It’s vanilla shit but the vanilla beans are fresh and I’m satisfied.
Spacing out at the keyboard, wondering how long this will last
My brain’s been battered, splattered all over Manhattan . . .
Shadoobie, my brain’s been battered
my brain’s been battered;
brain’s been battered;