Have you gone off paroxetine (also known as Paxil, Seroxat, etc) cold-turkey. If you haven't, you're probably thinking it's a bad idea, and you're absolutely right. It wasn't even on purpose - I was forced into this place by poverty. I literally had no money, not for bread, or milk, or bus trips or pens or pills. I was hungry and in paroxetine withdrawal mode.
It's like...the feeling you get when you have a sugar crash, when you haven't eaten for too long and you feel dizzy, the pavement is like rubber, your eyes throb and it's impossible to concentrate. And then imagine this feeling made worse by a sense of hopelessness and powerlessness, because it's chemically induced and there's nothing you can do about it. All you can do, is endure.
And a lot of the time thats been my mantra for my suicidal moments, and it works because you have respite and you can sleep some of it off and you can cry out the pain, wipe it away from your skin with a tissue; you could dispose of it quite easily. Yet with this enforced, stricken cold turkey process nothing is your own: I've been having fits of tears that won't stop and suicidal thoughts that I don't want, thoughts I barely consider my own and it brings back old scabs from my psychosis and I think the Devil has come after me again...
Sometimes sleep won't come, even when your best state of being is under a soft duvet with pillows cradling you, sleep stays away until dawn and then it's wanting and violent about it. And the dizzyness won't end no matter how much you eat or walk or rest...and it's driving me insane. Not to mention I've decided to write a 5,000 word essay on LGBT activism in the early 1990s instead of something simple and boring like Thatcher, or how shit Blair was... Insanity should be on its way soon :)
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
What Have I Been Doing to Myself?!
I'm a bit of a mess.
I'm this *fingertips* close to getting myself flunked out of university. My vocabulary has been atrocious. I've lost most of my revision notes and everytime I think of my extended essay due in three months, hardly researched and hardly a clue, I have to take another propranolol to stop myself having a full blown anxiety attack.
I also had sex with a guy. Without a condom, because I don't seem to give a shit. Dissociation rocks. At least it guarantees you regular sex. I've tried my best to move away from this one of my many forms of self-destruction.
But I've also done good things. I went to Egypt on a journalist expedition as a SPEAKER, at an international youth peace conference, and people were listening to me and asking questions. They wanted me to work with them on projects and I was somewhat awesome. The week was marred a little by the monster spiders and the hotel worker who tried to rape me (...trying to push me onto the bed, "it will only take 5 minutes..."), but otherwise the highlight of my year.
And I'm a real radical feminist. The good kind, I don't have vaginas wallpapered everywhere, that would be gross and go against the contract I've got with my landlord (I now live in a house in Manchester with three girls including a raving homophobic Catholic). No, I work on the magazine we're trying to restart - I have creative control - I get to write. And the whole dizzying brilliance of it all almost gives me a panic attack.
I've also found myself with an addiction to Doctor Who, Torchwood and a fist-sized crush on David Tenant and John Barrowman. I'm still a lesbian. At least it feels right and solid and frisky and proper when I'm with a woman than all the nervous sexual energy and the inherent beautiful wrongness than when I kiss a guy.
And in-between? I discovered foreign films, facebook, Rilo Kiley, New Order, Talking Heads and even more Regina Spektor songs. I found refuge in Bob Dylan, Kate Nash and Adele. I saw my friends, family and my mother. I had a good christmas and new year. And I'm trying to find my friends again, despite the dissociation, but because of it as well because I don't want to scurry away from my friends anymore than I have already. I'm talking about friends I actually like. Who's going to come to my 20th birthday this year? Being 19th 1/2 is no great shakes. And I'm mostly sorry to Lioness and Dana for neglecting them and allowing them to forget all about me. I'm sorry for all the chances I purposely missed last year because they could have made my life better.
And I'm hoping to start again.
I'm this *fingertips* close to getting myself flunked out of university. My vocabulary has been atrocious. I've lost most of my revision notes and everytime I think of my extended essay due in three months, hardly researched and hardly a clue, I have to take another propranolol to stop myself having a full blown anxiety attack.
I also had sex with a guy. Without a condom, because I don't seem to give a shit. Dissociation rocks. At least it guarantees you regular sex. I've tried my best to move away from this one of my many forms of self-destruction.
But I've also done good things. I went to Egypt on a journalist expedition as a SPEAKER, at an international youth peace conference, and people were listening to me and asking questions. They wanted me to work with them on projects and I was somewhat awesome. The week was marred a little by the monster spiders and the hotel worker who tried to rape me (...trying to push me onto the bed, "it will only take 5 minutes..."), but otherwise the highlight of my year.
And I'm a real radical feminist. The good kind, I don't have vaginas wallpapered everywhere, that would be gross and go against the contract I've got with my landlord (I now live in a house in Manchester with three girls including a raving homophobic Catholic). No, I work on the magazine we're trying to restart - I have creative control - I get to write. And the whole dizzying brilliance of it all almost gives me a panic attack.
I've also found myself with an addiction to Doctor Who, Torchwood and a fist-sized crush on David Tenant and John Barrowman. I'm still a lesbian. At least it feels right and solid and frisky and proper when I'm with a woman than all the nervous sexual energy and the inherent beautiful wrongness than when I kiss a guy.
And in-between? I discovered foreign films, facebook, Rilo Kiley, New Order, Talking Heads and even more Regina Spektor songs. I found refuge in Bob Dylan, Kate Nash and Adele. I saw my friends, family and my mother. I had a good christmas and new year. And I'm trying to find my friends again, despite the dissociation, but because of it as well because I don't want to scurry away from my friends anymore than I have already. I'm talking about friends I actually like. Who's going to come to my 20th birthday this year? Being 19th 1/2 is no great shakes. And I'm mostly sorry to Lioness and Dana for neglecting them and allowing them to forget all about me. I'm sorry for all the chances I purposely missed last year because they could have made my life better.
And I'm hoping to start again.
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