Ya know the story about the little engine: “I think I can, I think I can”…

That’s how I am feeling these days about my new antidepressant. I think it’s TRYING to work.

Yes,please. Please,please,please.

Mind you I’m not talking a miracle cure here. It’s more like on occasion I can feel the edges of the depression lifting and little snippets of myself emerging. The Real Me. It’s something. Better than I was getting from the other meds. For all I know it’s not even the med, maybe it’s just time passing as it gets nearer to the season change. But I am trying sooo very hard to think positive and have faith.

Which might be the biggest proof of all that the med is doing something. Positive thinking and faith aren’t generally in my repertoire.

Today was weird. Up and down. I’d feel the flickers on occasion and it’s like, yes please, I will take “not feeling like I wanna die for six hundred Alex.” But then it would just kinda filter out and I’d be right back down. I had to do some phone calls and that sent me into the level of panic that requires a xanax. I hate phones with all that I am, they may be useful but they have long been the bane of my existence, calling or being called.Phone just mean more panic. No, thank you.

But I made a new playlist of old happy ish 80’s tunes…And for me that’s like…something different is happening. For months it’s just been 30 Seconds to Mars and Adelitas Way. Now I’m going back to my retro roots with Kiss, Ace Frehley, Alice Cooper…If I’m not too nervous and disillusioned to hear different music that’s more upbeat…this could mean something good.


Little signs here and there that the tides are turning. It’s not happening overnight but…I finally have hope and I don’t think anyone could know the magnitude of that unless having been to do Depressiveland.

I still feel salty about some stuff, but I’m a salty chick so it’s okay. I was reading Fangoria when I was 7, I don’t think there was any chance of me being anything but macabre and salty. I’ve spent so much time wanting other people to like me for me that it was lost on me…I like me for me. Not like I wanna hump my own leg or anything but I don’t see anything all that fatal about me. I’m different and I’m not the one with a problem with it. Those that have a problem are just so much flotsam and jetsam.

In all my narcissistic truth and glory…I like being a big bucket of nutsy kookoo who has Hello Kitty and Furbys alongside coffin candles and a plethora of skulls.

Later I’ll list all the stuff about myself I don’t like.

But all the stuff people seem put off by, like my home decor and me being a contradiction of evil and cutesey…I LOVE that about me.,

And since that’s the first good thing I’ve had to say about myself since oh, August…I’m soo telling the shrink Wednesday that the Viibryd seems to be helping.




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