I went to a real psychiatrist today and got a formal diagnosis of being not crazy, which is nice. Okay, there is more - I'm not bipolar and I'm not crazy but I am depressed and I do have anxiety. I already knew this, of course, but something about sitting answering questions from a psychiatrist as opposed to whining on to oh, my friends and my therapist and so on, makes it more sort of official and it kind of weirded me out. So she gave me a huge old bottle of Lexapro and told me I need to take it every day and stop going on it and off it like a yoyo. Yoyo being my term, not hers, but descriptive and to the point. She wants me to stay on it for six months - we'll see. I'm ambivalent. One might get another boyfriend, you know, and lexapro isn't all that much fun in the bedroom.
She also gave me a prescription for Clonopin for anxiety about which I'm also ambivalent but oddly less ambivalent than I was about the lexapro, which is dumb on my part, since I've done lexapro a million times and have never tried clonopin. But I suppose that's just the allure of a new drug although I'll probably be afraid to take it too and it will join the three year old xanax I've been carrying around in case of emergency since 2004. I've carried that thing through a couple of emergencies and I'm sure it helped. Although, you know, I suppose it's probably more like a diaphragm: doesn't work from your underwear drawer across the bedroom.
In other news. . . there is no other news. We're out of beer and I'm too broke to buy any, ah well. The guys are watching Ghost Dog in the living room and I mopped the floor and it's possible that my friend P from New York is going to come down and visit this weekend. Most of Baltimore is coming down to Bat Cave and that will be nice; a party this weekend.
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9 comments:
Oh, hun, you're so not crazy. Maybe a little untethered and floaty from all that life has thrown at you in the past few months, but not crazy. *hug*
Second try: be careful.
Yeah, it'll be okay. So far I've taken half of one clonopin and that made me so serene and confident, it was beautiful and deadly. So I hid them and I'm only going to take them when I totally have to. Besides - fuck it. I'm tired of being responsible and good and panicky and miserable all the time. Crime spree is the answer! Or not. Maybe not. Let's go for sushi and not pay.
Should I FedEx myself to Asheville or should you FedEx yourself to SF? I'm going to guess that there's better sushi in SF, and if we're going to go on a crime spree it might as well be lavish. After sushi we can forcibly occupy Ghirardelli's and take turns dipping each other in molten dark chocolate.
lexapro in the bedroom: try some gingko biloba, 60mg twice a day. It seems to help keep some action going down there. Also, find a BF also on some kind of SSRI so he takes as long as you do. An xBF on prozac went an hour and 45 minutes once!
An hour and forty five minutes? I don't need psychopharmaceuticals for that. I'm a Scorpio, and a bloody Scot besides.
I'd accept a martini, though.
Ya know, I get the flu and I miss all the fun. An hour and 45, huh? ;-p Sometimes there can be too much of a good thing! I vote for many somewhat shorter intervals, with martinis and cigarettes and sandwiches and chocolate dipping in between. Lots of intervals - like, seven, eight intervals a night.
fortunately the hour and 45 minutes of fucking was when we were new, or it would have been too much... and unfortunately, he was not a repeating type of guy..
Oh, you can try 1/4 clonopin when you need it too. It really is not addicting. Why do I know all this shit?
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