Have you ever felt like your tools outright hate you? I don’t mean your electric drill suddenly turning on you, à la Skynet. I’m talking about things being generally uncooperative. You know, the spoon that spills and splashes, the key that refuses to fit in the lock, the gawdamn USB that won’t go in the slot. Or, specifically in today’s case, the divination tools that won’t cooperate.
There are certainly days I feel under attack my physics in general, and there are days when it seems metaphysics is out to get me. It’s hard when a tarot deck that has taken a disliking to you keeps turning up cards the divination equivalent of a middle finger. I don’t know why I persist with this deck. Anyone want a slightly used Rider deck?
- Mental Illness
- Excoriation Disorder (SPD)
Disclaimer + Content Warnings
First of all, a lot of what I write below will not reflect well on a lot of people in my life. This is absolutely not my intention! While reflecting on some causes of certain conditions and situations I try to take into account historical context, remembering that it was a very different socio-cultural experience growing up in the late 70s and early 80s to the vastly more socially and psychological aware situation today.
My family didn’t set out to fuck me up! Most, if not ALL of my issues were entirely of my own creation based on my interpretation of what was happening at the time. There is literally no one to blame here but me.
This is a perfect example of separating personal truth from actual fact.
I’ll try to keep this post short and sweet after the last one. This doesn’t really need a novella, and it’s more to keep track for myself.
However, a little context for context’s sake.
Mid-late 2016 I started a regimen of Prozac for managing my anxiety – a topic for another blog post. There were the usual side-effects for the first month or so, but as soon as they settled down everything was pretty darn awesome. I liked to call myself ‘almost psychologically bulletproof’. The source of the ‘almost’ in that statement is also a topic for another day.
Early-mid 2017, however, I noticed some weight creep that couldn’t be explained by anything other than the medication, as nothing had changed in my diet and exercise regime. I spoke with my GP about it when it came time to renew my prescription, and we agreed we’d give me another couple of months to see if I can get on top of it before we decide whether or not to wean off.
A couple of months later and I felt like a bloated hippo, so we started weaning off. It took two months to wean down to nothing, and it’ll take me another two months to get it entirely out of my system due to the half lives of the active ingredient (fluoxetine) and its metabolite (norfluoxetine), 4-6 days and approximately 16 days respectively.
Right now I feel like the drug is trying to hoard all the fat it can before it’s gone, like a squirrel storing nuts before it forgets where and never comes back.