Posts Tagged ‘prozac’

Is that the gentle tapping of a well-placed kick to my prone form? I thought so.

Sunday, March 14th, 2010

Just realized that if I take Prozac it means that I will have to give up caffeine and alcohol again.  I feel like running down the hall towards the coffee maker in slow-motion…


Please tell me that you have that stomach line too…

Friday, March 5th, 2010

Sometimes the fake “words” in those little prove-you’re-human-and-not-a-spam-computer text boxes amuse me.  Got “vichinga” yesterday, which sounds to me so very, very much like a pet name for female body parts that I may start using it.   Or maybe as one of those “Ha – gotcha!” kind of phrases.  Like “Yo mama’s so fat she probably needs medications to assist in managing her cholesterol!  Vichinga!”  or  “Your husband’s so lazy that there appears to be a minor buildup of recyclable products under your sink! Vichinga!”

Also nice guys do sometimes finish last.  Mostly in yo mama battles.

Day two of the Great Wellbutrin Countdown.  I am happy to report that there are no hives yet, though I have become excessively aware of everywhere on my body that is minorly itchy, at all times.  Incidentally, that line at stomach level, where you fold when you sit down with bad posture?   Very itchy.

I filled out the Anxiety and Depression inventories in my “Feeling Good Handbook” by David D. Burns today (the one with the admittedly very famous in the field man on the cover who looks very much like Mr. Rogers’s nicer, more syrupy neighbour).  The depression one is sort of like this.  They say that it can help to do that regularly, since it puts a definitive number on how you’re feeling.  I don’t know how much weight the actual number itself holds, since the test is pretty basic, but it does make it easier to make comparisons.

I haven’t kept track of all of my scores over time.  Don’t remember exactly where I was when I first started (early 30’s, maybe?).  At one point earlyish into the process, not too long after being diagnosed and pulled from work, I was a 42(anxiety) and 28(depression).  Later on after doing a lot of my self-help readings and trying yoga, etc. I was a 28 and 20.  Then 38 and 16 on the Wellbutrin the first time around (it’s known for making people a little tightly wound).  When the Effexor hit, I was too depressed to even think about answering the questions (it would have been off the charts) and on the Prozac I was too anxious to worry about it.  Today I scored a 42 and 40.  The anxiety checklist goes all the way up to 100, but the highest possible score on the depression checklist is 45.  Note that I tend to under-estimate my symptoms if I’m undecided.  Note also the difference between where I was when they officially decided this was bad enough that I could not work anymore, and where I am today.  Note that higher is BAD on this test.  Sigh.

Yo body’s so cracked that you get SADDER on antidepressants!


Actually, I don’t recall exactly when I learned that word. As a side note, to this day my mother still covers her mouth and says “Excuse my language!” whenever profanity slips out in front of me. Have I mentioned that my mom is seven at heart?

Thursday, October 15th, 2009

Finally clear of the Effexor, and starting to feel somewhat closer where I was when I started this whole thing.  Still feeling some side effects from starting the Prozac, but I’m mostly just very very sleepy at this point, which I can live with (especially compared to the other stuff I’ve just passed.  Bring on the sleepy.  Cake walk).  I’ve been napping for at least a few hours every day this week, but I’m trying not to feel so bad about it.

So I’m not really up for much lately (I walked down to my basement today and was winded.  My heart was pounding.  Not so much with restarting the workouts yet, then), but I’m thinking about being up for stuff.  That’s an improvement, right?  I want very badly to get myself back to that place where I was experimenting with my life, and trying various random things to help myself get better.  Deep down, I am a little bitter that process has been put on hold for three full months of what was really Not The Right Medication For Me, but I have hope that in the end some medication or another will be helpful, and acknowledge that the only way to get there is to try some.  Still,…sucks ass, right?

I am now firmly convinced on the “burnt out stress coping systems” theory on the cause of depression.  Body undergoes stress and reacts accordingly.  Due to situational factors, the stress reaction is triggered with extreme frequency.  When overtaxed enough, body cannot keep up and loses its ability to respond as it normally would.  Body systems related to the stress response (sleep, appetite, immune functioning, etc.) are out of whack, as is the body’s ability to handle additional stress of any kind.  This makes a lot of sense to me given what I’ve noticed in myself, and the situations in which people tend to become depressed (when they are under extended periods of stress, either as a result of life events or a distorted perception of them), and the things that could make depression more likely (the body would have more or less of a reaction and/or reactions to more things depending on genetics and thought patterns).  The stress reaction is an intense thing.  It was designed for running from lions, not for deciding which shoes to wear to meet in-laws.

At any rate, I’m trying not to feel so bad about feeling like I want to take a break from things for a while.  If I had a sprained ankle, walking on it right away would just delay the recovery.  Same thing here, I think.  Eventually I can work myself up with more responsibility, but trying to fling myself into things before I can really handle them is going to set me back, not speed things up.

So maybe if I need to watch a lot of TV on the days I don’t have other commitments while the new antidepressant is making me too tired to think about much else, that’s not such a bad thing.

Moral of the story, I need to back the f@#* off of myself.

Which has pretty much been my lifelong moral.

Except when I was six and did not yet know what the f-word meant.