Thy Drugs are Quick

I’m reminded of Romeo & Juliet, “Thy Drugs are Quick” I feel that way about my meds sometime. 2 weeks ago I felt like I could barely move, let alone smile. I was consumed by rage, grief, helplessness. I didn’t want to do anything. Not even mourn.

I stepped up my medication (I’m at the triple the dose I started at) and within a few days my energy had returned, I was laughing and smiling more easily. I was driven to accomplish things again. I should feel grateful, I am. It worries me though how much of a difference my meds make. Is it an imbalance? Would I be a train-wreck right now without them? Is it just the drugs that are throwing me off course.

I wanted to quit, I felt like I needed to, strangely and against all reason, I felt like they were holding me down. My psychiatrist recommended that I should be ‘symptom free’ – a nice way of saying “Not crushingly depressed” for a few months before I stop, otherwise I will probably just relapse into depression.

God the longer this takes, the bigger it seems. Will I ever really be okay? Will I ever not think of her or just be over it. Is this the kind of lasting pain that anyone would have in my situation, or is it because we really were meant to be in some way and losing that, is so epic a blow to my life?

I try to just be happy that I’m happier, to get motivated and get things done. I have this fly by the seat of my pants feeling all the time, I have no stability. It makes me want to move while I’m not entrenched anyway. It would be hard to leave behind Bonni and my life but not as hard or unthinkable as it would have been when I was stable, safe, and secure.

My feelings are held at bay, reined in like wild horses, chomping at the bit. I don’t really even feel happy, just not as sad. Antidepressants aren’t happy drugs, they just feel that way compared to utter loss and depression. When even neutral seems ecstatic.

I still don’t know my next steps, I try to tell myself that in the midst of this funk that survival is good enough. I don’t need to fix my life, I don’t need to accomplish everything. Just getting over it is my priority. Then I think that accomplishing everything is the way to get over it, and I can’t. So I feel helpless again.

The closer I get to a year. God it’s like 3 months away. A year. A year since my life exploded a year since we stopped talking. A year of watching in utter disbelief that her codependency knows no bounds. A year of hating him and resenting her. I feel like it’s a milestone. That by the time a year has gone by, I’d damn well better have something to show for it. I made some changes in my life, I’m glad for those. I don’t know that I have a pile of success to stand upon. I’m not exactly resting on my laurels, maybe just living is good enough. Maybe that’s all you can hope for, is just surviving for a year.

God it still hurts, stopping for 2 seconds and thinking about it still wrenches my heart like there’s a fist wrapped around it. It pulls tears from my eyes and the sadness returns. Just when I let it hit me for 2 seconds. When I look square at the problem, the loss, the situation, I’m almost instantly transported to staggering loss and hurt.

I want to forgive her, to move on, I just wish she wasn’t still doing what she’s doing. I wish someone would just show up at my door and say “she’s done! they broke up and she’s doing much better now” and I could heave a sigh of relief and go on with my life. Stop blaming myself, stop resenting her. The challenge here is to find that on my own. I’m taking the hardest possible route. Because there’s no quarter, no help, no love, no support. No backup. There’s just the knowledge that it’s all just as fucked as it was before, that I’m powerless to do anything about it.

The best thing I can do for me is to focus on myself. I’m getting some work done this week, taking a break from slacking off and just spending all my free time dating. Buckling down to get work done.  I want to lose myself in that for a while, both to feel responsible and to have something occupy my mind completely.

I’ve always wanted to believe I’m different than other people. That I hold myself to a higher standard. When I make stupid mistakes and act like a sad asshole it reminds me that I’m human, that I should be more humble, empathetic and accepting of other people and their flaws. That I should be grateful for what’s still good. I have friends, I have family, I have a girlfriend, even if it’s not formally declared. I feel guilty that I’m not in love, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of really feeling that yet.

I’ll just muddle through, try not to hurt anyone, try to get back on top of my life. Move forward with my plan to move. I need a change and a challenge. I need it badly.