​I deserve better…and you deserve to be alone – Meghan trainor

Cut the meds by a 1/3 and feel better already. I’m noting any changes in my mood or sleep cycle as well as trying to pinpoint triggers but so far, I blame the pills. My roommate “L” is also on the rebound emotionally and is a blast to have around. I brought him to Thanksgiving and we put on a show for the family, dancing to Sinatra. I also took his suggestion and finally returned to the online dating scene. So far the best prospect is a Dom who is sadly, well outside my age cut off. And before you pass judgement on me having an age cutoff to begin with, let explain that a man pushing 60 isn’t interested in fathering any(more) children and no matter what the White Witch said about past lives or my own physical health problems which may very well have left me barren anyway, I haven’t completely given up the idea of having kids. And whereas a man near or early into his 60s may be quite verile, how many years of that does he have left, honestly? I dont want to be 50 and back to batteries.  Scottish accent or no, 52 is a reasonable cut off I think for a woman recently 40.
I’m not interested in The Other Extreme end of the spectrum either. The twenty-somethings come out of the woodwork and I politely tell them I’m not interested in being the Demi to their Ashton, because we see how well that worked out. But want to take my “strong, shapely legs” for a test drive on the dance floor, as one young Latino gentleman asked, that I’m down for. It’s a nice distraction anyway.

Meanwhile, he has disappeared again without any hint of explanation. Since I don’t think I’ve said anything recently to scare him off, I suspect he may be a little depressed and no longer interested in me as a therapist since feelings and sex have muddied the water that was never potable to start with. 

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“Don’t be a fool” Shawn Mendes

I’d been oscillating all day between just coping and wanting to call and cry “Why Don’t You Love Me When You’re Sober?”

Feeling weak and depressed through another ballet class, the new Shawn Mendes song that I had sent to him 2 weeks ago came on and I snapped. But not in the bad way. In the air smells like a third world country and I can hear the whistles of incoming Survival Mode sort of way: I felt my face, limbs and heart deaden. And I remembered:

I have survived war, sudden deaths of loved ones, divorce and betrayal worse than divorce… this is nothing.

I always said if war was only good for one thing: it was for putting life in perspective. And if I couldn’t hold on to that maybe I needed to go back and relearn that lesson.

While that stupid fucking song played I brainstormed. I lost sight of my goal The Combat Search amd Rescue unit where I asked G-d a question and got a rainbow for an answer. I’m not done.

But clearly I need a constant reminder of that so I decided to go into the garage, burrowing through five plastic bins of military gear to fish out one of my flight suits. But it’s not enough to hang it in my closet. No, I took down one of the Lora Zombie paintings from my bedroom wall, and hung the flight suit on a hook from the nail, hanging over my altar. I’ll see it every morning when I open my eyes and every night when I close them. To remind me:

I’m not done, goddammit…

“If I was yours…but Im not” ~ Arcade Fire

​It’s an unbearable ache tonight..the kind where  I really should call a friend. But I reached out to him instead and his response (before he tried to change the subject altogether and bring it back to what he was doing),.was “wow that’s deep. are you sure you should back off your medication?” 

I don’t know if my medication works. I don’t know if any of it has ever worked. I know it gives me more energy in the day and contributes to more sleepless nights than normal which makes me loopy and drags me down. Like tonight.

 Hes sending me breathtaking pictures of the California coastline and I grew envious,.wishing  I was there with him instead of Miss Piggy; instead of sitting in a class listening to a liar and a braggart.

And suddenly i was very depressed.

 My sabbatical is not what I promised myself it would be.
40, alone, uninspired. I feel like I’ve done it all except that which I’ve either been too afraid or too lazy to undertake.

I havent felt like dancing the last two nights, that’s how I know Im off. Big events, one swing, one Latin, but I thought, “It’s just another dance, ya know? Nothing special about it. I still come home alone, drag myself out of bed the next day, wash rinse repeat.”

Am I clinically depressed or am I just another person of fleeting peace?  Despair is just another human emotion and is it reasonable to try and squash it and snuff it out altogether, like parents who drug their kids, calling it ADD when they’re just being kid

I can’t focus enough to read any of these self-help books lying on my bed. Lately I’ve been picking them up and reading a bit, highlighting, making notes in the margins…I don’t know how much I believe but reading about the upside helps me wind  down.

There’s no calm to be had tonight.

Just a deep, desperate unnamed darkness that threatens my life. Take another pill and keep praying to God to fall asleep soon and stay asleep.

`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

17 hours later:
This is not me. I’m scared.
Recall the disclaimers at the end of the commercials for antidepressants that says “Discontinue use and contact your doctor immediately if your depression worsens”? I did not feel this BAD before these pills. So I sent this to my new incompetent doctor at the VA hospital:

Dr. XXXXXX,

Last night was the second time since I have been on Wellbutron that I have had what I can only describe as a “meltdown”. Uncontrollable, inexplicable despair. I came to the mental health clinic in July because of a week-long anxiety attack triggered by a nightmare. If you refer to Dr. YYYY’s note from our initial meeting prior to that, I was not depressed and our next meeting was an annual check-in the following year. I don’t believe depression was the root of the issue in July but she explained that because I have a history of depression that she wanted me back on an antidepressant. I did not begin taking it until about two months ago. Since then, I have never felt worse. And I am worsening. I wrote yesterday to ask if perhaps stepping back to the lesser dose of Wellbutron was an option due to my increased problems sleeping but now, considering how I have felt the last few months as a whole, I want to gradually come off the anti-depressant altogether and see if my “depression” improves, which I suspect it will. The occasional anxiety and sleep disturbances remain unchanged.