Tag Archives: mental health

Bupropion Diaries: I Won’t Say it’s Over

I’ve found that depression is the reason that I kept with this blog. It’s the reason that many people who I read and comment to on a regular basis and I came into contact. Some sort of shared emotional tragedy and pretty words have that magic glue to cement people together.

At least that’s true in that casual, safe from a distance sort of way. I’ve had online journals before, but they have hidden behind fandoms and pleasantries that hide who I am. But this one is different. It’s followed me and I’m excited because it’s getting more exposure, more traffic and yet those casual safe from a distance sort of way folks are still here reading.

I think it’s safe to say that I’m actually proud of myself.

All that being said, I was really hesitant to call this case “closed”; I’m not sure that depression really goes away. All I know is that I’ve been off of my medication for a little over a month now and I feel good. I have bad days, I have good ones, and I’m having great ones too.

And I’m writing.

I used to hate having chapters with neat, happy endings, but lately, my life has changed my mind.

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Maybe it’s Never Really Over: a Relaxed Divorce

Ex called me a while back. I didn’t tell him that I was moving… I didn’t really think to.

I’ve passed the point where hearing his voice makes me roll in my gut. That hideous little snake of depression and anxiety that he always brought up has died. I can feel it rotting away sometimes when I think about how hard I tried to be straight and how it has obviously affected him. It’s his little slips that catch me biting my tongue, calling me “babe” out of that 15 year habit is one of them.

I can’t bring myself to be angry with him, not anymore. He’s screwed us both over in a multitude of ways, mine are mostly monetary aches that I just have to keep paying monthly till they fade away like my guilt snake.

I want to be angry with him. I want to ask why I lost all of my friends over this. I want to ask how it feels to be “right” because he’s the straight one. I want to be angry so badly but I don’t have it in me anymore. It feels like it would be easier to be angry than to admit that he’s never going to truly go away. The fact of the matter is that I’m always going to care for him. I’m always going to remember him. I am always going to hope the best for him.

But I don’t feel responsible for his future anymore. And you know what? I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

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Year of the Protagonist: New Lives

Oh, this has been a whirlwind two months, my blogfriends. I moved from the hell hole, I’m not getting my deposit back because I left some things there (but I did leave the place MUCH CLEANER than I got it). My ladyfriend moved in with me for the summer and she helped me move. It’s been really interesting, we sniped at each other a bit, but there was no major blow up and we’re almost all settled in.

Our new place is small. Extremely so, but it’s very nice. We’re slowly getting down to purging and unpacking things, the closet, a pile, and some shelves need to happen but we’ve definitely slowed down. My goal is to set up three more shelves today and put things on them. It’s real cozy and I love it here.

Ladyfriend can walk to work and I am only 8 minutes away by car. It’s really nice to be so … I dunno, close to everything. I can walk everywhere that I want to and I am enjoying the sort of relaxed freelance kinda feeling. Speaking of Freelance, I’m doing very well with the freelance job. So well, in fact, I am planning to be out of debt entirely in six years.

After that…maybe I’ll quit my main gig. I sort of daydream about having the freedom to go wherever I want whenever I want to go. Freelance is freedom for me. Once my debts are all paid up I am really not that expensive a person. Little apartment, enough food and time with my dogs is all I need.

It’s an odd thing to have choices. Lady Luck is smiling upon me. I’m not an expressly spiritual person, but I feel like something is looking out and that as long as I keep myself open, good things will come my way. Optimism is a nice thing to wear. 

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Bupropion Diaries: The Downslope We Knew Was Coming

I’ve been medicated for about two months now, give two days. While I feel like the medication has been working, for the most part, I took a nosedive last night. It had just been stressful, My boss got a new boss who proceeded to go through all of our personnel files and then individually meet with us and it just slid down from there…

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Bupropion Diaries: Anxiety Attack, Weight Loss, and other Sundry – A Freethought Ramble

I woke up Thursday morning with the worst possible anxiety. It knotted in my stomach and smoked in my chest making me feel sick and unable to rest. As I wrote this I was on my way to a Fetish Convention in Rhodes Island, so my dogs were at the babysitter’s. I’m fairly sure that’s where the anxiety is, to be honest (yes, I’m a crazy dog lesbian. Please fill out your bingo cards if you’re playing the stereotype game). It’s not that I think my friend will do anything to hurt my dogs. She’s a top notch behaviorist and runs a rescue from her home. If anyone is qualified to look after my elderly malamute princess of the cosmos and my stupid moose of a mix breed pup, it’s her. I even adopted my puppy from her.

From Airplane the Movie

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Bupropion Diaries – Still a Dreamer

From worldofstock.com

Image from worldofstock.com

I’m finding on the Bupropion that I’m not sleeping as much as I used to. I tend to go to bed around 23:00 and get up around 4:00 or 5:00. Typically I roll over and fall back asleep, this, in turn, makes me late for work. I’m going to just start getting up altogether when I wake up first thing. I don’t feel as though I’m depressed as much as my bed is warm and has a snuggly puppy in it and work is devoid of both the comfort and the puppy. This half awake stage tends to make me dream a lot more vividly. At least it makes me remember them more.

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Bupropion Diaries – Where’s that Other Shoe?

I’m letting go of my own anxiety and trying to do this. I’ve promised myself to not delete this entry, so hold me to it, I suppose? My life is going so well, I don’t know why it’s easier to write about the bad things than the good. Maybe I feel like people don’t care so much when good things are happening, maybe I fear I’ll jinx it.

Maybe it’s a holdover from my father, and we don’t have time for that one tonight, maybe later. For right now we’ll start on the 18th of January…

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