June 30th, 2018
Supposed to be studying for this A+ Certification. Taking practice quizzes and I’m not recalling anything. I don’t have the energy to want to complete anything. Feeling anxiety. Why? I have no fucking clue. Feeling of failure washing over me.
I’m home. Not even outside or taking the actual test and I’m a fucking mess. So, I’m going to take a Zoloft and start again when it kicks in.
I’m a fucking mess and I hate it. What am I going to do when it’s time to take the actual tests?
June 21st, 2018
I took half of a Zoloft this morning. I felt the anxiety coming on last night; dealing with the boneheads at the job, the child support situation mentioned the other day and suddenly memories of my own past stupidity started rushing back to me. I tell you, my mind fucks with me that way…magnifying my awkward life moments like an unwanted home video presentation. Making me very anxious and jittery.
Here’s the thing: I have an acutely accurate memory of the worst times of my life. Almost 360-degree imagery of the same instance from all sorts of angles but I have to work so fucking hard to remember things for exams.
I’m going with the idea that I actually have a very good memory — long-term memory things, I guess. Things that leave impressions. Like I remember a lot of good things, too. Like my first girlfriend and the things I did for her. Not just the emotions and faces. I’m talking full segments of conversations and events 20-30 years ago.
Odd. If I really stopped to assess my memory, I really do have a solid memory of a lot of things. Why did I ever think I had a bad memory? HAHA…I forgot why I thought that. LOLOLOL.
I think I have a bad memory when I struggle to commit schoolwork to memory. Or I panic when it is time to take tests and feel I forgot everything.
Then I can go ahead and recall stupid events from when I was a kid that my mother doesn’t remember.
Well, anyway, the Zoloft is to settle me down because I dreaded going to work again today and I want to do a lot of schoolwork and keep studying for the A+ exam. I told my wife that going to work now, with less pay, makes it difficult to swallow the usual shit I was taking at this job. Now it’s all magnified. It’s a mental thing, but seems so much worse.
Taking a full Zoloft would have made me lethargic. Half keeps me on my feet but mellow.
It’s already starting to work.
See? Even a sensible psychotic can get through society if he takes his meds when he’s supposed to.
June 2nd, 2018
Nt one day off and I spent the latter half of it very anxious and looking into a lot of self-destructive shit. No, I don’t drink or do drugs, but the desire for sex is just as equally destructive. Sometimes, when I feel this anxiety coming on, it’s coupled with an extreme need for a female and then I start looking for company that I shouldn’t; married or not. Sex, in the past, calmed me down especially when masturbation is getting boring. Finding something extra-curricular is exhausting. Being single in a world of idiot game players is incredibly time-wasting. I would invest in prostitution but thats expensive and I’m not fond of condom use at all.
So, took a Zoloft (half of one) and I’m stabilized. By that point, I already looked into a lot of trouble, but I’m good now. Let me tell you … Tinder isn’t as easy as one thinks to get some pussy. Well, maybe not at my age anyway. or maybe it’s just me. Plus down some money using all the stupid features for a quick fix that never happened. Might as well have given Tinder the money for free. All I wanted was a straight, no strings fuck and I couldn’t even get that.
Was it wrong to look for sex? of course it was. On normal days, I don’t look for ‘extra ass’. When I get in this frame of mind — I feel overwhelmingly lonely. I need the touch of woman and just have her until we’re finished. Like a person looking for drugs or alcohol to fill a void. It’s my go to when I am not on medicine. Through the day, I wasn’t thinking of taking the medicine and I let it carry on too long. About an hour ago I took the Zoloft and I’m calming down.
Like a person on drugs/alcohol, sometimes, the damage is already done. Today, I’m straight. No issues. But I remember years past where it was damaging. The child support I owe underscores that.
Perhaps if I had married a nympho. Just raw, daily, hourly power sex nonstop. Then I’d have other problems. Like no sleep.
I’d pay anything to be normal.
May 21st, 2018
I start work today. Unusual hours of 4pm to something in the morning. From what I hear, they needed more people and they have lots of overtime. I’m to meet some guy named ‘Luis’. Here’s my interpretation:
Mostly Spanish speaking workers with highly rotational employment of idiots that don’t want to do any work. Spanish people got the better hours of daytime hours and lots of Blacks working the night shift. Spanish people there don’t even try to speak English and Blacks there don’t even try. Only White people there are supervisors and managers.
That was the same setup at that warehouse job I had last year. I’ll bet you a $1.00 it’s the same here. I’m going to come in and be the odd man out.
Anyway, the Zoloft wore off. In fact, it faded off yesterday. I have more, but I wanted to document the timing. I took it Saturday night around 10pm, but the effects started on me around 2AM. Couldn’t sleep and overheating. For much of the morning when I did wake up, sluggish and very slow. Also dry mouth and thirsty.
What it did do is silence the extra thoughts. When I say extra ‘thoughts’, it’s my mind replaying memories I deem embarrassing or regretful. Think of something you did awkward at a party, then a year later, out of nowhere, your mind remembers that segment of time for NO reason (maybe a song, a smell or something someone said); causing you to wince or react for the stupidity you believe happened. That’s what goes on with me: a mind forced to replay the sadness, awkwardness, etc, etc. A private kind of hell and my memory is DEEP. I’m being shown things from elementary school that, yes, did happen. Not hallucinations. Not delusions. Memories.
I have explored meditation and attempts at rerouting my thoughts. There is a certain level of thought redirection I can actually do. At one point, I used to imagine this box and everytime a random thought I did not want to come up, I would throw it in the box. Sounds strange, I know. But it worked. I was usually able to catch the thought just as it started, and in the box, it went. Barely any time for my mind to consciously recognize ‘what’ that thought was about. Kind of like willfully forgetting something.
The problem I noticed is those thoughts, in that box, actually, have weight. Incredibly, these thoughts actually back up and clog my system somehow. Many, many MANY times I try this “throw it in the box” routine, after awhile, the box breaks and the emotional residue of those thoughts flood me. Those are usually the worst weeks. The weeks that are darker than dark. When I don’t try the ‘box’ method, I go long stretches of time without being morbidly depressed, but I am forced to view my life’s moments. It’s like they have to happen. Like a running faucet. Stop the flow, it will explode. Keep it running, and all is relatively fine. Not good. Just fine.
The pills kept them in check moderately, giving me a foggy clarity. And if something did pop up in the mind, I was too slow to care.
Right now, my mind is racing. Normally a good thing. Getting more writing done.
I did not take Zoloft last night, deciding to take it today (AM) with some food. Haven’t taken it yet. I wanted to monitor the difference between my rate of typing now compared to yesterday. I’m writing faster and pushing the thoughts of what I want to write much more fluent. Yesterday’s journal entry was slow and full of errors I had to back up and correct. I mentioned long before I could not write on Lexapro. I definitely shouldn’t write while on Zoloft.
With my school work at 95% writing, that’s a problem.
Having said that, does Zoloft affect anything else I do? Working? Driving?
I’m so fucked. Why can’t I just be normal?
I can’t take the pill now cause I need it to write. I probably shouldn’t take the pill to pay attention to a new job. But I need the pill to be a subdued version of normal.
It’s funny. I know exactly when the Zoloft wore off. It was around noon yesterday. I suddenly started getting those random thoughts and memories back and I was waking from that zombie-like state too have an emotional feeling about it. The Zoloft curbed the emotions. By late afternoon, I was writing a little (schoolwork), after much of the day not interested in it at all.
Yeah, I’m going to skip Zoloft today. The thoughts come, but I’m not ‘manic’ like I was last week or super depressed. I think the pill worked ‘enough’ and probably works enough when I need it as opposed to when I don’t. Probably not the way it is recommended to work, but I have to NOT be foggy in the head when starting this job. I might consider taking it AFTER work if the medicine is expected to wear off by the time I go BACK to work.
May 20th, 2018
Yesterday, I was a wreck.
It’s 3am right now. I was actually up since 2am. I thought I went to bed around 10pm. Maybe 10:30pm. Regardless, I’m up and, well, let me explain a few things.
My wife was nice enough to bring home some Zoloft. It’s an antidepressant. One of the perks of being married to a nurse.
I used to be on Lexapro, which took some time to get over being nauseous, then it would make me a zombie. The anxiety would go away and, if taken regularly, I would never get emotional about anything. Think of like a boiling pot. When the water gets to a certain temperature, the flame under the pot would shut off and the steam would mellow out. That was exactly how the medicine worked.
Unfortunately, it prevented me from getting an erection. Prevented me from doing anything creative (as emotion goes heavily into creative works).
These days, sex with my wife is spotty at best. That’s another story, but it’s what happens when you get married and you’re together for longer than 3-5 years. Either someone is going to cheat, is cheating and the sex between them will slow down. I can’t cheat if I’m not leaving the house and severely antisocial in real life and online. I honestly have no one but my wife. Not that I wouldn’t want it different, just no opportunities and, to be honest, it’s too much work.
My wife on the other hand, well, I’ve had suspicions. In the past, I would be hunting who she’s talking to/having sex with, but I’m distracted by school, at the time looking for work and my own depressive issues. One night she blatantly came home at around midnight from a job that was less than five minutes away from where we live. No calls. No texts until I started bitching about where she was. She eventually called me to say she was working late but that was after … forget it. That was weeks ago and I let it go.
I’m working now. See what happens if I work late.
So, these past few days I’ve been feeling worse and worse. I asked her to bring whatever she could home so I can get a grip before I start work Monday. She brought Zoloft and these are the results with one pill.
As I said, I’m up at 2am. I’m burning up and it’s not just the weather. I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts aren’t as random as they were for days, which is a good thing. However, I am sluggish, making me a touch focused on what I’m doing but slowly. Like typing this: I’m writing slowly like I was tired. But I’m not. But I should be.
There wasn’t ‘much’ of a nauseous feeling, but I’m wise to this stuff so took it at night after dinner. I felt it coming on and went to sleep.
But it wakes me up early. Hopefully, it’s just one night. We’ll see.
Which leads me to this story about a woman that seems to committed suicide recently. Her name was Stephanie Adams. Fell out of a hotel window with her son:
https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/19/us/new-york-mother-child-hotel-plunge/index.html
No, I don’t know her. I could have. Something familiar about her. The police haven’t ruled out foul play. All the same, it looks like she committed suicide and took her son with her.
As you know, I’ve gotten really low. Thoughts of suicide plague me weekly. Actually doing it — that is to say, doing it right so that it’s a guaranteed one-way trip — isn’t easy. For instance, 25-stories off a building ‘could’ conceivably do it, but what if she survived? People try to shoot themselves in the head, end up missing and living a painful life.
My first thoughts are usually how devastated my daughters would be. Then things change.
Looking over a swatch of Stephanie’s life (online profile, website, books she published), I can see she was a little ‘scattered’. I used to date women like that. Very pretty, into all sorts of spirituality and classic cases of ADHD.
But she was getting older. She married rich White men. She was going through another divorce and it was bitter. She had no money but like most women, like to give the impression she had a lot going on when she did not. She was drowning in debt, likely depressed and thought this was the way out.
She has books on Amazon and there is like ZERO reviews on any of her work. Mostly horoscope things and self-important stories about her own life. Even I know nobody gives a damn about you individually to read a book about you unless you did something outstanding.
Still, I definitely could relate to the zero attention to the writing material.
Some of her work was up on Amazon since 2009. Christ, at least I got some reviews.
The point is, I understood this empty feeling she may have had toward the end. The difference was she HAD attention and success in her past. She was a model so you know how that goes. You find out exactly how important you are when you get old.
90% of these Instagram Models are in for a rude awakening.
Likely, the gas ran out on her value and you turn around and realize you might not have much talent for anything else. You keep trying to regain a level of success you had before, but it was just a face and body … and that face and body are worn out from depression, stress, divorce. That’s when the mind starts coming up with outlandish creative things that just won’t work.
I wasn’t a model. I had an ounce of success with my first book and I’m constantly trying to snatch at that glimmer of readership. I’m underwater in debt. Slightly drowning.
I could have killed myself.
Instead, what keeps me alive? My children? This law school career path?
She had a son. Hell, she took her son with her. Or at least, we’ll find out soon enough if the ex did it or not. The x probably had a prenup. She wasn’t getting any money whatsoever.
I look at her picture and think she is someone I could have known. It’s in her eyes. Desperate to obtain something. Struggling to keep it together to get there. It’s a look I am familiar with.
Last week, when I was at a low point, my concern was if I killed myself, I had to make sure my homework was in on time. That shows you the level of commitment I had in doing it.
It’s 3:34 AM. I’m getting tired. I’m not mad or distressed. No angry thoughts. Just overheating.
Oh, and I’m alive, an ‘A’ student working toward my bachelor’s degree, got a job I start tomorrow, happily married with the usual manageable suspicions, my son graduated high school and I’m proud of him, I love my children and I’ll be taking the paralegal certification courses soon.
Looks like the Zoloft is working.
myJournal 