October 24, 2005

Some people are waiting to exhale, others are waiting for Godot, but me, I'm just waiting for the anti-depressant to kick in.

Life is drenched in a sense of despair at the moment. Feels like something died inside and now just sits there rotting. I don't know what it is, what's causing this. Is it the inevitable thud of hitting the brick wall of depression at 90 mph that always gurgles up inside, like blood in my throat, when I go off my anti-depressant? Is November's angst warming up its engine? Is it the change in seasons, trees going green to red, sky from blue to charcol grey? Or perhaps it's the changes we're going through, Ross' new job, new schedule, moving, everything in transition, all for the better, but still feels like chaos. Or maybe it's all of the above. Most likely all of the above.

Don't know why I do this, why I stop taking my anti-depressant, all my meds in fact, for no apparent reason. I hate the depression and feeling ill and yet the one thing that prevents it, the simple act of taking a few pills, I struggle constantly to do. But the repercussions are here again, despair has settled in, my glucose and insulin levels are on a gut wrenching roller coaster ride, my weight is creeping up, sleep has gone awol, energy is nil. And I do this to myself which is, perhaps, the worst part of all.

I have started my meds again, though, the lovely anti-depressant, insulin sensitizing, antibiotic cocktail I need to keep my brain less insane, my glucose percolating properly, and my skin from looking like I use a cheese grater on it. So now I wait for the meds to kick in and I know exactly how long for each, because I've done this so many times. Insulin sensitizer is fastest, it'll bring glucose and insulin to normal range almost immediately. Next the antibiotic, 10 days my skin will no longer be painful and inflamed. And finally the anti-depressant, it takes the longest. 2 weeks, it will start to be noticeable. 4 weeks I'll substantially feel better. 8 weeks I'll be singing the praises of wellbutrin and wondering why I ever stop taking it.

So it begins, the wait. And in the meantime, I curse myself for messing up yet again, but even more so I curse my body for needing medication at all. Stupid, high maintenance body. Stupid, high maintenance life.

Sigh. 4 weeks and counting. But in the meantime, where's my Morrissey?

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