Placeholder remark: It is so much easier to like my mother when I am healthy. I always love her, but she knows how to push my buttons (because, as girlpearl says, because she installed them), and it is sometimes hard to be in her company.

Also, I am incredibly proud of myself: I took my last dose of meds on Wednesday last, and I am able to smile and talk to people tonight. I know it's the sunlight and the getting enough sleep and knowing I will be able to get meds again, and I know I need to pick them up first thing in the morning and start taking them again, but it's really encouraging. I will be okay. I am stronger than my depression, and the more I have evidence of that, the easier it is to be that. Act as if ye have faith, and faith shall be given to ye; it's not mind-over-matter, not quite, not entirely, but it's kissing cousins.

Things I want to talk about here: My Asshat Father & Why, Despite My Experience With Depression, I Refuse to Cut Him Slack For His, why I hate group therapy so very fucking much, how I will know when I am okay to cut back on individual sessions with Dr. L (hint: not yet, but I can feel it coming closer, although possibly I should ramp them back up over the winter), what the fuck I am going to do about the totally-not-revelation-but-articulated-THING with C#3 (three of the four most important people in my life have names beginning with C), career thinkiness, and god only knows what else.

Well, I suppose it's good that I've CONFIRMED I'm only ever two missed lexapro doses away from full-blown crazypants.

I ran out of lexapro at this beginning of this week because my script ran out and I thought I had another refill on it, kept forgetting to call my GP for a new one, and when I did get around to it, discovered they require two business days to call in to the pharmacy. Yeah, I don't get it either, but the point is: I can't get my meds until Monday at the earliest, I haven't taken any anti-depressants for about a week, and I am WELL into complete hamsterbrain. And by hamsterbrain I mean: my appetite is shot (so I forget to eat, and then I'm RAVENOUS and eat the nearest carbon-based food-form, and then I get sick to my stomach), I'm constantly in a low-level panic attack, the concept of an "attention span" is risible, and I can't see the point of doing anything because I'm not going to finish, ever, and bleeeeeeeeeeh.

::sips ginger tea, trying not to feel queasy as all hell::

Reposted from IJ, 16 March 2009