So, yeah–this is that blog post where I continue to bitch about withdrawing from unnecessary SSNRIs which were prescribed as part of my stroke recovery. I’m about a week and 2 days into the withdrawal process and I feel really terrible physically and mentally. My thoughts are all over the place, and I’m assuming the worst of every situation–along with assuming that everyone is mad at or hates me all of a sudden, which is very hard on me b/c I tend to be a PollyAnna. And, the physical stuff, Jesus. I’m insanely dizzy intermittently and have zaps in my brain–like a static electricity shocks to your skull. Eeeeeeeee! So, that’s a barrel of monkeys.
The reason that I’m even bitching about this semi-publicly is that: a. Not that many people read this, so it’s mostly private anyhow; b. My mood is such that I will have no friends or family that even likes me if I keep this mood for much longer and c. I hate being this cranky and awful. Harumph.
The goal of this whole undertaking is to get my saliva back so I can tolerate food again and to have stronger orgasms. It stands to reason that I have no local sexual partners just as my orgasms have started to return to their med-previous, earth-shaking levels. I may be pretty mediocre at a lot of things–but I know my way around a dick.
Aside from all of the withdrawal, which blows–hard, I’ve been struggling to get along with my dad. If you are a regular reader of me, this is not exactly breaking news, but it has gotten so much worse. He basically told my cousin to make sure that her daughter doesn’t major in something “useless” like philosophy. Gee, thanks. I guess that being an attorney and clinical social worker/therapist isn’t something to be proud of.
And although a much greater mind than my own recently told me that he believed that my dad was very, very proud of me–and I grudgingly agree with him for the most part, it just doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time.
ealvfargond 