When I woke up this morning, I had a horrible dream (see previous post). When I woke up, I realised that I slept through two alarms and worse of all, I missed my appointment with the GP. I thought, fuck. I had lots of reasons to feel shit as i woke up.
My mum after an hour shouted at me to get some vacuuming done. I thought: FUCK! I was pissed off at her tone, but perhaps I was hiding my emotional honesty in being angry at my mum. So I decided, I shall react differently, and vacuum the carpet. I soberly approached this issue and went through my morning tasks, which included: shaving, brushing teeth, tidying up desk, tidying up bed, putting clothes on. Putting my laptop on the computer table and off the chair next to my bed.
I approached downstairs for some breakfast, enjoying the quiet of the house, I decided to watch some television. I put on the latest episode of Lost and sat for a short while before the noise came as my dad woke up. I then decided to put off telly watching and ventured to vacuum the house.
I felt better doing something constructive, instead of wallowing in my self-pity. Self pity is pityful, how ironic a use of words.
When I woke up, I felt in myself an energy, a sense of brightness, a slight spark. A spark that I haven't felt in myself since, since I started taking the antidepressants just before Christmas. That must be about three months ago by now (gosh how time flies). I realised that my feeling of stupour and lack of motivation; my overeating and sense of comfort seeking also coincided with my antidepressant taking.
I chose to take the drugs in hope, a hope to get better. I healed in that I chose to accept help, I healed in choosing life instead of hate. The drugs didn't help. My spirit of trust regained; but scientific method says that the drug failed.
I am going to do a little 'trick' myself. I'm going to discontinue the use of seroxat. I know that it is very difficult to stop the drug cold turkey. But perhaps I have had difficult times already with the drugs. I will experiment, for maybe a month, or maybe a couple of weeks how my body will respond to when I stop taking the drugs.
I am aware that growth takes place within the space of an equilibrium, an examination and altering of careful balances. I have altered the cycle of taking the drug. I am not anti-drugs. I am anti-depressants.
I want to stop feeilng low, I want to have better orgasms, I want to lose weight. I want to stop deperssion, but I also want to stop the things that depress me.
I've not beeng blogging very much. This is very much out of a want of words. I have not had very clear ideas or thoughts. I have lacked a sense of direction for the past couple of months and I feel I am merely existing through each day and trying to find some spiritual gin in which I can drown myself to hide away from the ever present of my woes.
I need to fight this, and I believe the next stage of this fight is to stop the drugs. I have used a process of elimination to show that this particular drug did not work. I hope that my empirical hypothesis works.
My mum after an hour shouted at me to get some vacuuming done. I thought: FUCK! I was pissed off at her tone, but perhaps I was hiding my emotional honesty in being angry at my mum. So I decided, I shall react differently, and vacuum the carpet. I soberly approached this issue and went through my morning tasks, which included: shaving, brushing teeth, tidying up desk, tidying up bed, putting clothes on. Putting my laptop on the computer table and off the chair next to my bed.
I approached downstairs for some breakfast, enjoying the quiet of the house, I decided to watch some television. I put on the latest episode of Lost and sat for a short while before the noise came as my dad woke up. I then decided to put off telly watching and ventured to vacuum the house.
I felt better doing something constructive, instead of wallowing in my self-pity. Self pity is pityful, how ironic a use of words.
When I woke up, I felt in myself an energy, a sense of brightness, a slight spark. A spark that I haven't felt in myself since, since I started taking the antidepressants just before Christmas. That must be about three months ago by now (gosh how time flies). I realised that my feeling of stupour and lack of motivation; my overeating and sense of comfort seeking also coincided with my antidepressant taking.
I chose to take the drugs in hope, a hope to get better. I healed in that I chose to accept help, I healed in choosing life instead of hate. The drugs didn't help. My spirit of trust regained; but scientific method says that the drug failed.
I am going to do a little 'trick' myself. I'm going to discontinue the use of seroxat. I know that it is very difficult to stop the drug cold turkey. But perhaps I have had difficult times already with the drugs. I will experiment, for maybe a month, or maybe a couple of weeks how my body will respond to when I stop taking the drugs.
I am aware that growth takes place within the space of an equilibrium, an examination and altering of careful balances. I have altered the cycle of taking the drug. I am not anti-drugs. I am anti-depressants.
I want to stop feeilng low, I want to have better orgasms, I want to lose weight. I want to stop deperssion, but I also want to stop the things that depress me.
I've not beeng blogging very much. This is very much out of a want of words. I have not had very clear ideas or thoughts. I have lacked a sense of direction for the past couple of months and I feel I am merely existing through each day and trying to find some spiritual gin in which I can drown myself to hide away from the ever present of my woes.
I need to fight this, and I believe the next stage of this fight is to stop the drugs. I have used a process of elimination to show that this particular drug did not work. I hope that my empirical hypothesis works.
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