Dry Eyes, Dry Brain, Dry Heart/ Fall ’09

by feyruhan

dry and thorny #5In journal entries to my mother I am cruel.  I am to the point.  I am exacting vengeance.

I read them and feel… burning.  Burn out.  Sadness.

My eyes have been burning, for how long I’m not sure.  I haven’t been taking my medication as prescribed.  I could say it’s not entirely my fault, and that might even be true, but the point is that I haven’t been sleeping well, haven’t been eating well, and, *sigh* haven’t been feeling well.

I’ve been holing up in my room, mostly rolling around in my imagination.  I’ve been missing days at the social rec center, which is the only piece of structure I have right now.  I’ve been skipping out on Saturdays at the local clay studio, and I haven’t been telling D, the man who runs the clay studio, that some of the things he’s been saying sound too friendly.

I want to exhale all of this.  All of it.  The burning in my eyes, and the burn-out in my heart, the apathy in my mind.  I know things were better.  I know I was better.  The Abilify was working great, and for a while even the lack of structure in England was refreshing instead of disorienting.  For the first week of the visit, I just didn’t orient myself.  I didn’t try.  I didn’t bother.  So I didn’t fail.  Now I’m back, and I’ve been trying, and it’s not working so great just yet.

My dad is concerned about the side effects of my new medication.  The one that’s replacing the Abilify.  There’s nothing there I haven’t read before, except sexual and reproductive changes, which, lets face it, are practically irrelevant at this point.  If I had a penis, I don’t think I’d be concerned about the possibility of a “prolonged erection.”  And as much as I like having my monthly rhythm familiar, I can’t imagine it being a priority above my mental and emotional functioning and well-being.  And, yes, I would not turn down the possibility of a change in my breasts, so long as “change” is evening-out or growing, and not shrinking.

I’m waiting for mail.  I check my inbox compulsively, and am usually disappointed to find Facebook notifications, political mass-mail, and forwarded jokes from my dad and Jim, the bus driver who offered to draw me in the nude.  I’m waiting, hoping, to hear from K.  His name isn’t important, what’s important is that he’s a someone and not an anyone.  For the first time, I’m the one making all the moves, calling all the shots, doing all of the initiating.  And as much as it is fun, and refreshing, and empowering, it’s also very quiet.  How long is too long?  How often is too often?  He doesn’t respond, and when he does, he has to log off soon after.  I haven’t managed to catch him on his phone since I was at the airport, waiting to cross the pond to England.

I’m feeling melancholy.

3 Comments to “Dry Eyes, Dry Brain, Dry Heart/ Fall ’09”

  1. I used to take Abilify with my Prozac. I had nasty side-effects from it, it made me so dizzy that I couldn’t cross a room without feeling like I was going to faint before getting to the other side. I only take the Prozac now, and it turns out that’s really all I needed, anyway.

  2. I’ve been to this place, in my head. I remember it. Only I was in high school, and the structure I needed to absent myself from was school. I was ok, functioning, when I wasn’t there, but there was huge pressure to go back.

    Accountings of depression are odd to read… often you find yourself wondering if it’s actually your own memory.

  3. I know this feeling of melancholy I have felt it. I tell myself I don’t, and strangely enough it comforts me when I feel down. I find myself drawn to it like a lost puppy that has picked a familiar scent. But I know it’s not home but maybe I can stay here for a little while until I can catch my breath and think things thru. I can’t.

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