Bupropion Diaries Day 14 – Word Vomit

The following is a flow of thought, something pretty unusual for me. It was enough to make note of it I suppose. Again, I’m not a healthcare professional or anything of the sort, this is just me thinking on myself, I suppose.

As someone who isn’t used to emotions, I’m at a loss feeling so many. Hardly any of them are good and it makes me really anxious. Is this how the medicine is supposed to work? My doctor wanted me to give it two more weeks. I can do that. I really can. I’ve felt worse. But for some reason I just… for the first time in my entire life I’m afraid of being lonely. Not alone, I like being by myself for the most part. What I hate is feeling cut-off, left out, and set aside. This paranoia is probably totally unfounded. I know that it is. It doesn’t make it go away. Fuck, in some cases I’d be done with me too, to be honest.

I originally started going on this medication because I was drinking to the point of excess just for the ability to feel something. Anything. The days after I would feel guilty and exhausted and the crushing guilt was overpowering. I am lucky that it appears that I’ve only strained (and perhaps lost) one friendship over it. My drinking, point black, is a problem.

It’s odd, when I’m going out for dinner I can be fine. If I’m driving? I’m usually golden. A few drinks then peace I’m out. But… in certain functions gods it gets horrible. I’ve made a commitment to not drink in those situations, to be Sober when I’m staying the night with people (yes, a capital S). I don’t want to be that party girl who lost her shit after getting a divorce. I really don’t.

But fuck it all, it hurts. The stress of the money that I was bleeding out (sometimes in excess of 1000 a month!), the loss of all the constants in my life in one fell swoop, the distance from support that I took for granted, it all just hit me so hard. If you had talked to me last year, I would say that I had an honest, loving spouse and friends that I had known since Highschool that would have done anything for me.

I didn’t. None of those “friends” so much as checked in on me. Those who mentioned me at all blame me entirely for the mess with my ex. They always knew I was fucked up, they didn’t know what took Ex so long to leave. I shouldn’t have made him pay for everything. It’s me. My fault. It’s hardly a wonder I shut down like I did.

Sometimes I feel like no one takes what I’ve been through with my ex into account, honestly. I worry that I’ll be judged simply on my actions and not what I’m going through. Strangers, I understand that, but friends? I really think I should expect more from. Yeah, I may have fucked up, but I’m actively fixing it. It won’t happen again. It should count for something.

I wanted to feel something, I can safely say that I do, but not this. I’m cutting down my beloved caffeine in the hopes that it will take away some of this anxiety. Maybe two weeks will do it. Maybe it won’t. I knew that this wasn’t going to be easy, I really did.

I just wish that I felt like I was allowed to have a real breakdown every once and a while. Maybe if I felt like I was, I could just get these feelings out and get it over with.

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