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So right now, you all get to experience with me my very first PROZAC HIGH!!!
Just kidding. I mean, I’m not kidding, I did pop my first Prozac pill this morning, but I’m not actually high. In fact, I don’t feel any of the side effects they warned me off, not even the ones that they claim will wear off in the first few days. These include headache, dizziness, and feeling like I’m jacked on caffeine or antihistamines or both. Honestly I’m a little disappointed, I kind of like feeling like I’m sitting on a cloud, so wide awake I can’t even blink.
There are other more long-term potential side-effects that I’m hoping to avoid. These include*:
- insomnia (which up to 33% of patients experience)
- nausea (up to 29%)
- diarrhea (up to 18%)
- drowsiness (up to 17%)
- decreased sex drive (up to 11%)
There are others that I’m not quite as anxious about. But having any of the above side effects more long-term would suck. I hate nausea. I hate diarrhea (obviously). I’d really rather not have insomnia, since I’m a pretty good sleeper and really need it to function. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I don’t want to be any drowsier than I already am, since I feel like I’m already situated on the lazy end of the Activity Spectrum, and don’t need anything else to contribute to inertia. Plus, being drowsy at work sucks, because I can’t go take a nap. It’s like struggling to keep your eyes open in class. Don’t you hate that feeling?
The worst one though would be the decreased sex drive. I love my sex drive. I’d be happy having sex daily, and even more frequently on occasion. Alas, I don’t have the opportunity to have sex daily, because I don’t see mi’lady every day. But I see her 4-5 times a week, and we generally always shag. (Isn’t shag a funny word?) And I like shagging, and most of all I like wanting to shag. I love the feeling of desiring sex, of being turned on, of wanting her filling me. Oh my god, that feeling…
….
Okay so far so good, Day 1 on Prozac and my sex drive is still intact. Writing all that was just a test to see if I still got horny. I did. Can I leave work now please and go fuck? Kthx.
Dude, where’s the sun at? The Mission is supposed to be (a) the sunniest part of San Francisco, and (b) the warmest part of San Francisco. Since I’ve moved on Sunday, it’s been foggy and cold. Granted, it’s only been a day and a half, so I suppose I shouldn’t be making noise yet.
***
Things with mi’lady are good, and I’ve been pretty stable since that last low-point earlier this month (see here, here, and here). I’m seeing a psychiatrist on Friday morning to hopefully start planning for some kind of drug cocktail. Haha, that sounds like I’m both a junkie and an alcoholic. (I’m neither, just fyi.) The truth is I know psychiatric medications are controversial. I know people scoff, people judge, people get on their soapboxes and preach about how all our children will be sterile, scaly mutants if we take anti-depressants. I’ve been there too, done that whole judging and scoffing thing, and I’m done now deciding for others what will work for them. It took me getting to a point where I realized, hey, I need help. And maybe drugs will help.
Because the thing is, I know this is chemical. I know that my bouts of severe depression are not about my emotions. They’re not about stuff happening in my life or my relationships or my work (though they can certainly be exacerbated by those things). They’re not banishable by just trying to be reasonable or do things that make me happier. They’re just really deep holes that are so deep I can’t tell that there actually is an opening at the top that the light shines through. I just need a ladder to get out of the hole. For me, I hope that medication can be part of that ladder. Psychotherapy too, and self-care, but I want to see if medications can be part of the mix. Because today, I’m doing alright. But next week? Who knows.
I woke up in the middle of the night because of cramping — oh joy, my period. Took me a few minutes to rouse myself out of my midnight drowsiness to get up, find a tampon, and take some tylenol. (Sometimes I’m GLAD I have really awful cramping… otherwise I might’ve woken up this morning in a puddle of menses! Delightful image, no?)
So when I woke up this morning, I started wondering whether it’s possible I have actual PMS or even PMDD. I know everyone talks about having PMS, but I know there’s a difference between the cultural and social phenomenon that is PMS (I think something like 90% of women claim to have PMS symptoms) and the actual medical condition (which I think something like 20% of women have at times in their lives). So I’m beginning to wonder whether that’s part of what’s going on with me.
I always struggle with co-dependency. But the intensity of my emotional neediness and feelings of depression and anxiety are not constant. And this morning I remembered that the *last* time I felt really depressed recently – despair to the point of wishing I would die — I woke up the next day with my period too. Coincidence? Perhaps. But perhaps not. I just went back and looked through my back-and-forth-at-work emails between me and mi’lady from my last two menstrual cycles, and boy was I a mess! Yikes. Like total meltdown mess.
So, that makes me hopeful that either anti-depressants or birth control can help me. The problem with both is a decreased sex drive, and that won’t be very happy for me or for mi’lady. But I think it will be much happier than continuing in this totally overwhelming and despairing situation of wanting to die when my period comes and being way too needy of mi’lady. It’s just not ok.
