Friday, December 08, 2006

Missing marbles

I know this first week on the happy pills is just a beginning. That it will take months of meds and therapy to really see a difference. I’ve been having a good week. Whether it’s from the meds, or from the fact that it’s finally all out in the open, I do not know. So far though, my week hasn’t been any more productive then the last few. My mind is wandering all over the place, my memory is non existent. I have two short stories due, and can not turn on my imagination to finish them. I just can’t. I stare at the piece of paper like I’m doing brain surgery on someone. I have no freaking clue as to what I’m looking at, or what I’m supposed to do or how do it or what will happen in the end. I DON”T KNOW! That really does sum it up, you can ask me a question and I just don’t know. I can’t think. I have felt dumb in the past, many many many times, but now I am dumb. I have lost my marbles at last. I start taking the full dose of meds on Sunday. I’m hoping that because these pills have such a low dose, that it will only affect my brain like this temporarily. That when the good stuff kicks in, I will be back to normal, or as close to normal as I ever was. This new dumb Annalise is annoying, degrading and tiresome. I lose my train of thought every few minutes, and I forget what people say faster than I used to. I space out many times throughout the day and I have no clue to what I was thinking of afterward. It’s creepy and extremely frustrating.

On a side not, I am happy that I finally got this all out there. I’ve told a few people, and most are walking on egg shells around me. Like they think being normal will hurt me in some way. Only I and my husband seem to laugh at the jokes I make concerning my happy pills and me being officially nuts. I get odd looks, and funny laughs but it’s like they think it will scar me more if they laugh. I know depression is a serious problem, but come on laugh about it people. I’ve lived the past 10 years of my life hating every single thing about myself, feeling completely unworthy and unwanted. Now I know it’s because of this evil dragon I’ve been carrying around. It’s not because those things are true, not that I love myself anymore than I used to, but everything was magnified to outrageous proportions. So why not joke? Why dwell on all the bad stuff more? Why give it more power to drag me down again? That won’t make me feel any better; laughter will make me feel better. I’ve been way to serious dealing with all this; I’ve lost out on fun and life. Not that I want to pull a Britney and show my ass to the world, but I want to have a little fun. So if I joke about me being officially nuts and doped up on happy pills, just giggle. Oh and please stop asking me if I’m ok. Of course I’m not 100% ok; otherwise I wouldn’t need the meds and the therapy. I’m ok in the sense that I’m getting help and I finally have a doctor backing me up on what is wrong with me. I’m ok because I caught it way before it got deadly. I’m ok with talking about it. See, I am a little nuts but I will be alright.

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