All of my ramblings on one site ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What Does Friend Mean to You? Three weeks on Prozac down (not Wellbutrin). Here are some things I've noticed so far: I don't cry at work anymore, or during movies. Not even during Karate Kid! At first I was worried I was turning into an emotionless monster, but I had a pretty good healthy cry when my mom and sister flew home the other day. I'm so much less bothered by people's microexpressions, remarks, and my own general uncertainty. These things would normally send me into a physical and emotional frenzie that would linger for days. No more! They still bother me, but it doesn't last nearly as long and I'm able to move forward pretty quickly. I feel a lot less creative. I sat at my desk for hours trying to come up with something to embroider or some new toy or patch to make and came up short of ideas. I feel a lot less flighty. I don't fantasize about running away anymore. Just this year I considered moving to Washington, California, Alaska, North Carolina, Montana, back to Florida, living in my car and driving around the country, joining Service Year, and enlisting in the Navy. My gut constantly told me to run, really far and really fast. Have a baby, don't have a baby. Quit school, don't quit school. Change your major, stick with your current major. Be an archivist, be a teacher, be a curator, give up on a history major altogether. Abandon your family, don't abandon your family. No matter what place or occupation, my mind was being pulled in a hundred contradictory directions. So, I drank instead. It was what my mind needed to slow down the thoughts and give me a little inspiration for the next "dream". Giving up drinking has been the most difficult part of this process. But I've stuck with it, mostly because I'm afraid of combining Prozac and alcohol and frying my brain or something. I don't find social interactions easier like my doctor said I might. I think this is something I may just never get the hang of. The difference now, though, is that I don't care nearly as much. I'm a quiet, reserved person and I don't feel like putting in the energy to be funnier, more charismatic, more interesting, or more talkative. All in all I think Prozac is working well for me, which is a HUGE relief because I was so afraid of turning into the living dead OR becoming more hysterical than I already was. In other news, my sister and mom came to visit us this past week. It was a lovely time. But god damn, it never, ever gets easier to say goodbye. The time never feels well-spent enough, and I love to punish myself afterward by thinking of something I could have said/done during my time with them and regretting it. Did we take enough pictures together? Did we do enough fun things? Did I say "thank you" and "I love you" enough? Did they feel as loved, welcomed, and appreciated as I felt toward them? Did my gratitude for them measure up on the surface to what I felt on the inside? Wishing I had hugged them more, and for longer. It all went by so fast. I try to never ever take my time with them for granted, and yet I'm always left feeling empty and regretful when they leave. Maybe it's just part of the package of living far from home. God, I'd never want to move back to Florida, but it's hard to imagine that this is what the rest of my life will be like. Until we meet again, I will just keep riding my bike, reading books, working hard in school, and doing my best to give them my love from a distance.
12:09 a.m. - 2020-08-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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