I don’t know when I ran out of my antidepressant. I’m guessing it was within a day or two of when I noticed, but I can’t be sure. I think what I noticed first is that my body hurt. Part of the reason I take Cymbalta is to help with the pain of fibromyalgia. But, I was also a lot more active, and doing things that require physical strength. My massive pain over the last few days wasn’t surprising.
Right now my attitude is pretty much, “Fuck everything. I’m done.”
I hit this point in late November/early December. But then it was, “I’m so worn out, I’m so sad, I’m just so done.” I wanted a month to myself with no responsibilities so I didn’t feel like I was drowning. As I got better sleep and farther along in the healing process, I came out of that. Taking the ADHD medication regularly helped as well.
The place I’m in now isn’t like where I was at the end of the year. This isn’t a sad, overwhelmed feeling. This is disgust. Irritation. Anger. I’ve been getting dicked around by some people, which I knew, but I recently found out just how much the dicking has been. I spend hours and hours each week in a volunteer capacity, and I’m getting fucked around. The problem is that the people fucking me around aren’t the same people who I’m serving by volunteering. So it’s a tough spot – I’m putting up with bullshit for the benefit of other people. I think the group I volunteer with is important, and no one really steps up to run it. So I did. I wanted it to be something that continued, something that would be there for people new to this area.
What’s weird though is that it’s a social group for women to meet each other and make new friends, but I don’t have any friends from it. I don’t see anyone there outside of the activities. I don’t even get to do some of the things I might do otherwise with the group because I’ve only got so much energy to go around, which means I do what needs to be done, rather than what’s fun. Gee, sounds awesome for me, doesn’t it?
Someone asked me today how it is that I manage to attract people who just seem thrilled to shit all over me. I have no fucking idea. I know that it happens to empaths more than others. We seem to be magnets for it.
But why do it? Why do anything? I do like the idea of giving back, helping other people, but what’s the fucking point of doing that if I am getting nothing out of anything?
Which got me wondering about my antidepressant. Have I been putting up with shit because the antidepressant mellowed me out, made me calmer about shit? I know that I started feeling optimistic about things at the end of the year and into January. But it’s come to nothing for me personally. Is that what I want for my life? Doing and doing and doing for me to get…fucked over again and again?
I will go back on the antidepressant. I hit some very dark places while I’m on it (thanks, hormones!) so I don’t want to run that risk ever again. But man, don’t I deserve more for my life?