Lie #1: “:You were on such a low dose of Cymbalta, there won’t be any withdrawal.” BULLSHIT.

Lie #2: “Fresh air and sunlight and getting out will lift your mood.” BULLSHIT.

Lies,lies,lies. It’s all ass trash.

Had a bitch of a time waking up again today. I was up forever last night because, ha! my new med-to be taken at bedtime- made me hyper and I was wide awake for hours.  Fuck you, Viibryd.

But I pulled myself up by the bootstraps (I detest that expression) and reached out to my stepmonster to see if she had any housework I could do for some cash to buy household supplies. She said to come on over. They live 7 miles away. Me, with withdrawal and vertigo from my other meds, driving a car that I don’t trust on a highway with fast moving cars…That was an anxiety inducing experience from hell.

She took me and my kid out for lunch. Busy restaurant with my anxiety issues…Ha, that was grueling.

But alas, it was done, I got what I needed, blah blah. Thing is..I did the whole grooming thing. Bra. Make up. Clothes I didn’t sleep in.Jewelry. I got out in the fresh air and the sunshine and I socialized and I moved around. There was no lift in mood. No euphoria. There was only more depression and the agonizing self loathing because I can’t shake it. Bucket of fucking fail.

Once home, it was just breathing time. Outings tap me out mentally. I need to recover, even though we were barely gone three hours.

Now…my kid is doing her sleep screaming mimis. She’s done it since infancy. Just cries and bellows and moans and whines and thrashes. I don’t know why. There is no comforting her. She lashes out. So I can only listen to cacophony of noise all night long. Again. Because my nerves need this added stressor.

The brain was busy today, railing on things I nhave no control of. Like the fact that mental illness is the bastard child of illnesses. If you have a broken leg and are on crutches, no one is gonna ask you to suck it up and run a marathon. But if you have mood swings or depression, you are expected to suck it up and function normally. Well, I dont see the difference between a broken bone or brain chemicals that send the wrong messages. Both impact one;s ability to meet normal expectations of functioning. But you won;t get any empathy for mental illness. Better off in a body cast, that’;s legitimate. You could then nurse your depression privately while people treated you with some dignity for your ‘real’ injury.

Blah. I’m going ranty.

Oooh Cymbalta brain tingles. The zaps will be next. Joy, joy.

No withdrawal my ass.


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