About a week ago, I downloaded the album pictured on the left. I had it years ago on a cassette, but they always have more songs on a CD or digital album.

After jamming to the tunes that were on my cassette, I listened to the extra ones that were added. And I’m glad I did…

I found my new theme song. It’s called “Sour Suite“. It’s a very beautiful song. I love a song with piano music in it, especially if it’s pretty. But it was the lyrics that really caught my attention They describe how I’ve been feeling for quite some time, now. I hope the few readers I have take a listen. It’s really an excellent song.

Now, if you’ve been reading my blog, you know about some of the annoying bullshit I’ve been going through in my life. But there are some things I haven’t mentioned…

I’d been having issues with my antidepressant. Aside from the fact that my cholesterol went high after I started it (I can’t eat fats or cholesterol with no gallbladder, so it’s not that, but the shrink insists otherwise). But the cholesterol was only part of the problem. I gained about 30 pounds and was still gaining! I’ve always been extremely thin, so to be this heavy just made my depression worse. My current weight is the heaviest I’ve ever been and it seems that every time I put on the jeans I bought back in the spring, they’re tighter than last time.

All I’ve been doing is crying… I don’t even want to see myself naked (which is hard to do if I feel like showering).

Funny thing is, I learned that Cymbalta is in the same family as Effexor, one my shrink knew caused me a 30 pound weight gain I was unhappy about and he put me on it anyway! And when I complained about my weight gain, his response was that I looked fine to him! Yeah, well… baggy clothes help, but only so much when you look 5 months pregnant and have mammoth muffin top. He never even checked my weight to make sure it wasn’t getting too high. It took months of me telling him that I eat healthy and eat very little and I’m still gaining and how much I currently weigh before he finally agreed to do something.

At first, I had my dose cut in half. What a fucking week that was… I never used to have issues weaning off antidepressants until I was on Effexor. After that, I couldn’t even be a few hours late for my dose or I’d get mild withdrawal starting. Well, weaning off Cymbalta is like being in your own personal hell… My emotions were so out of control. I was constantly screaming, crying, freaking out so bad even a hefty dose of Klonopin did nothing. I had physical pains, I felt nauseated all the time… And then there were the dreaded “brain zaps”… For those who have no idea what that is, I’ll explain it like I did to my mother. It’s a combo of dizziness and vertigo, and it feels as if someone shuffled across a carpet and directly touched your brain and gave you a static shock inside your head. Sounds delightful! Doesn’t it…

I hear there were a lot of lawsuits against the company for not warning people of the effects of Cymbalta. I can see why…

In any case, the following week, I finally got him to switch me back to Lexapro. I had to take both for a week to help the withdrawal. Surprise, it didn’t help. I’ve been off the Cymbalta and on Lexapro a week now and I’m still having withdrawal. Some days I’m so sick I can’t eat, my emotions are still all over the place and I’m still getting “brain zaps”. I’m beginning to think I should file my own lawsuit. I was never informed of the bullshit effects of this med…

Saturday, I was going on a day trip that I had been looking forward to for some time. But when I went to put on those jeans I bought about 9 months ago, I literally couldn’t close them. I almost lost my shit… The only reason I held it together was because I didn’t want the makeup I’d spent time putting on to run and because I didn’t want to spoil what I’d so looked forward to. I held it in until later, at which point I did lose it. I hate this; all of this…

Back when I was in high school, when it wasn’t okay for a family member or yourself to have a mental illness, there were no meds (because of that way of thinking).

At one point, I was dating someone who was a pot smoker. I was very adamant about staying away from it, but one day I said “fuck it” and smoked some. For the first time in all those years, I was happy. I know a lot of people disagree, but for me, pot made it better. I was happy and mellow and was functioning. Thankfully, medical marijuana is legal where I live. I’m considering getting that card… Anything is better than these fucking antidepressants…

I know that people with mental illnesses have brains that work differently than people that don’t have a mental illness. But my brain works even more differently than others with mental illnesses…

I noticed my illness got so much worse (and was joined by other illnesses, wheee) after I lost my ovaries and was immediately thrown into menopause. That was 12 years ago… And, over the past 12 years, I’ve slowly gotten worse. It sometimes makes me wonder if that could be the reason why my antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds don’t help me as they help others. They have yet to find a combo that helps and doesn’t make me pack on 30 pounds or more… My life went downhill very fast after I lost my last ovary. Before that, things were finally looking up, but that one issue, that thing I had no control over, shot everything all to hell…

I’ve really been examining my life (such as it is) lately…

I’m middle-aged, I’m bipolar (along with the excessive anxiety and OCD), and I have absolutely nothing to show for my life.

I always thought I was a pretty good artist… The drawing to the left is one I finished yesterday after spending several days (all day) working on it. I think it’s rather pretty… Yet it gets no recognition, like all my other work. It makes me feel like a huge failure. Art is all I’ve ever been good at, all I ever cared about. And now I feel as though I should just give up all hope. Maybe I’ll continue to draw for myself, but I think this will be the last drawing I share with anyone since no one seems to give too hoots and a rat’s happy ass about my work anyway. Maybe I’ll just lead a boring life until I leave this world…