Antidepressant

I have a love/hate relationship with my antidepressant.

I forgot to take it yesterday.

Today I feel really dizzy.  Confused.  Irritable.

When I take them I don’t feel suicidal.  At all.  Ever.

I can’t put a price on that.

Before I’d have a fight with my wife.  I’d leave.  I’d think about ways to kill myself.  I’d cry a lot.

I don’t have to deal with that anymore.

I hate that it takes a drug not to feel that way.

I hate that my doctor will only give me a three-month supply.

I hate that he demands that I make another office visit before he’ll give me more.

That doesn’t feel like freedom.

It feels like slavery.

I’ve thought about just quitting.

I tried it once.  I went three days without it.

I was okay for a while.  The last day I had a meltdown.

I was on a lower dose at the time.

I’ve thought about gradually reducing my dose.  That’s what I’ll do when I decide to stop.

I think I need to wait until after my wife moves out with the boys.

I might even need a higher dose to get through that.

I hate this.

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