Still with the drugs already
Nov. 26th, 2010 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgI'm planning to keep this (boring blogging subject) up until I stabilise. It's all a bit of a drag, but the info is so damned useful I can't not do it. Until then every day is a new and exciting adventure inside my invisible friend's body. Hey, you don't have to read it, unless you happen to be my psychiatrist who I'm planning to threaten at gunpoint* until he reads every word of this whole damn process.
Good news: no nausea, nerve pain, or hallucinations (that I'm aware of).
Did get a good night's sleep last night, for which I was very grateful. Woke up around 5ish but went back to sleep. Yay!
Having trouble with the puppet motivation thing again, so spent much of the day feeling exhausted, yet lurching about the house being active. Not CFS-exhausted, but wired-exhausted. That doesn't describe it at all. I felt a distinct lack of choice about it all.
I think there's a serious conflict going on between my spoon management routines and the antidepressant meds. The drugs want me to get off my arse and do things, like laundry and washing my hair, and dealing with cat vomit (thank you Princess, and on the couch too, thanks a bunch). The drugs want me to ignore all instinct, experience and logic and just get on with it, whatever 'it' happens to be. Unlike your average batch of meth, these drugs leave me with enough free will to notice that this really isn't a very good idea. Hilarity ensues.
My eyeballs are vibrating. Just wanted to note that for posterity. And my wrists and elbows hurt, which is unusual (fibro pain is everywhere the joints are not). I'm beginning to suspect that that signals a dry spell with high barometric pressure. Right now I crackle. And shake. All I need is a rattle and a roll and I'll be complete.
Now, if I found myself doing unnatural amounts of actual exercise, I'd say that my physical state of please-let-me-lie-down would reflect my general lack of fitness. However, while I've been busy on the me-scale, I haven't done enough to wear myself out. And I can no longer remember what point I was trying to make. I'll leave that in, because bad data is interesting.
I think I'm trying to tell myself that my spoon management routines must be based on actual physical limitations, because if I was just lazy and required motivation, the drugs would let me do all these things and I'd feel physically OK. Ah, I give up. I tried to lie down a dozen times today but couldn't. My body is buzzed but my mind is nice and stable and wants me to be sensible.
This state is not sustainable. So says my spoon control system. Also, disassociation FTW.
Still, early days, and every day is different. I have hope yet that the new balance will be in a good place. I can see colours today, so all is not lost. Actually my mood is pretty good, considering the general confusion. Experience counts again.
(*) Just kidding Dr T. I promise faithfully that I will not threaten you at gunpoint.
Good news: no nausea, nerve pain, or hallucinations (that I'm aware of).
Did get a good night's sleep last night, for which I was very grateful. Woke up around 5ish but went back to sleep. Yay!
Having trouble with the puppet motivation thing again, so spent much of the day feeling exhausted, yet lurching about the house being active. Not CFS-exhausted, but wired-exhausted. That doesn't describe it at all. I felt a distinct lack of choice about it all.
I think there's a serious conflict going on between my spoon management routines and the antidepressant meds. The drugs want me to get off my arse and do things, like laundry and washing my hair, and dealing with cat vomit (thank you Princess, and on the couch too, thanks a bunch). The drugs want me to ignore all instinct, experience and logic and just get on with it, whatever 'it' happens to be. Unlike your average batch of meth, these drugs leave me with enough free will to notice that this really isn't a very good idea. Hilarity ensues.
My eyeballs are vibrating. Just wanted to note that for posterity. And my wrists and elbows hurt, which is unusual (fibro pain is everywhere the joints are not). I'm beginning to suspect that that signals a dry spell with high barometric pressure. Right now I crackle. And shake. All I need is a rattle and a roll and I'll be complete.
Now, if I found myself doing unnatural amounts of actual exercise, I'd say that my physical state of please-let-me-lie-down would reflect my general lack of fitness. However, while I've been busy on the me-scale, I haven't done enough to wear myself out. And I can no longer remember what point I was trying to make. I'll leave that in, because bad data is interesting.
I think I'm trying to tell myself that my spoon management routines must be based on actual physical limitations, because if I was just lazy and required motivation, the drugs would let me do all these things and I'd feel physically OK. Ah, I give up. I tried to lie down a dozen times today but couldn't. My body is buzzed but my mind is nice and stable and wants me to be sensible.
This state is not sustainable. So says my spoon control system. Also, disassociation FTW.
Still, early days, and every day is different. I have hope yet that the new balance will be in a good place. I can see colours today, so all is not lost. Actually my mood is pretty good, considering the general confusion. Experience counts again.
(*) Just kidding Dr T. I promise faithfully that I will not threaten you at gunpoint.
