Today has been weird. My mood started out ok, little subdued. It rose. Then it came crashing down. Then it lifted. Then it stabilized. Then it crashed.
I knew the first weeks of adding a new med would be a roller coaster but this is more like bobbing for apples in a bubbling hot tub. And I am wondering if in all my indignant self snobbery I brought this on myself by thinking two anti depressants worked in the past against the seasonal depression so it will now.
Seven days really isn’t enough to gauge but it’s not been impressive thus far.
I’m sure pms is a factor, as well. Ya know, that non existent thing women have and use as an excuse against the poor helpless man folk as an excuse to be bitchy and act crazy.
I’m also a little thrown because someone threw a behavior deviation at me today. It was positive and pleasant, but soooo out of character for them. I’m still trying to figure out the angle they’re working, if they’re fucking with my head. I wish this were pessimism or paranoia but it rarely turns out to be. My gut is usually dead on when it comes to people and their motivations.
As much as I want to take this deviation for the better as a good thing…there’s this knot in my belly telling me not to shut off the alarms just yet.
And yeah, as a matter of fact, I do hate being this way. I miss the days when I trusted people implicitly, without suspicion or paranoia or fear.I was what, six, back then. Until my trust was eroded, abused, and morphed into the creature you see today. Perhaps if I had a stronger psyche I would still be a naive little mouse. Though coming from the family that I do, it was unlikely in the first place. We speak our minds, we call a spade a spade, and we don’t suffer fools.
I noted that yesterday’s post about fresh hell being human contact got a lot of views but no input. It was disjointed and rant-y, I will give you that, but it proved a salient point. Many of us are teeter totters with our moods, and maybe one or two wrenches in the works don’t toss us off balance. The more wrenches, though, the more we flail, and we come to see human contact as a trigger. Call it pessimism, personality, whatever.
It’s not anti social. It is not hatred of people idly.
Much like those who see the color red as a trigger for self mutilation, some of us have such precarious moods, we view human contact that way.
The biggest thing is that we keep trying. We may take time to grouse and regroup, but we keep trying to interact while managing our disorders.
If ever a post deserved a few likes, it was that one.
But I’m getting used to it. The more drivel I write, the better people like it. Anything I am remotely proud of is frowned upon or ignored.
And it’s not just this blog, it’s that way on the poetry blog. I write something I think is amazing and heartfelt, I am lucky to get one like.
I post something I threw together in five minutes without a second thought and it gets ten likes…
You regurgitate something meaningless and it is idolized.
You speak from the heart and it languishes.
Good thing I never started blogging for validation.
Blogging is the cheapest therapy out there and fortunately, therapy doesn’t need to be liked.
I’m doing that ranting thing again.
why am I the only one who finds that aspect of my writing charming?