So my new thing is hanging out in doctors’ offices and my craft-turned-bed room. I’m going to ignore the second part of that sentence and focus on the general annoyance that is “being sick”. That generalized “I’m sick” when there’s really nothing wrong with you maybe. For the ten-thousandth time in my life, my blood work came back negative for any thyroid problems.
I have all the blood and iron I’m supposed to have. My bad cholesterol isn’t high, but I should look at it. LOOOOK AT EEEET! My blood pressure is great. Reminds me of a John Pinette joke where he goes to the doctor and he’s healthy and they can’t believe HE would be healthy on paper.
So basically I’m tired. I’m on an antidepressant. This is good; it’s one I’ve been on for years (we took a break but now we’re seeing each other again). Now, when you first start up this medication, it can make you tired. It’s a progressive dose starter pack; this time, as the last time, I was fucking tired each time I started a new dose, but by the second or third week of full dosing I was fine. Same this time. I also had an anti anxiety pill specifically for sleeping and night terrors. I needed it maybe once or twice for a day time thing but I don’t have an up to date rx for that. That’s fine, I don’t really have night terrors right now. Bad dreams are not night terrors.
I’m so fucking exhausted. Like, fall asleep at 7 PM and sleep until 10 AM exhausted. Like, do your physical therapy exercises and fall asleep counting out your 30 second stretch. Yes I can set my alarm and wake up. And then fall asleep on the floor before I make it out of the room. I could drink coffee and get diarrhea. Not every time, but maybe 50-60% of the time. So that’s a fun roulette game. I can drink coffee if it’s like, 30% coffee, 60% milk/cream, 10% sugar. That’s not very good for me either, so no. I started trying to drink a soda in the morning but that was just so fucking unacceptable and worthy enough to make others lose respect for me. So whee for me, because I love having guilt and self-revulsion attached to diet soda.
I’m fully aware that depression makes you sleep all the time. Or not sleep enough. Or maybe for some people sleep exactly the right amount (bastards). But everyone is different, and as a rule, when I’m on medication I don’t have this problem. So maybe my body chemistry has changed, maybe this drug doesn’t work as well, maybe I need an additional drug, maybe that additional drug is meth. I’m not really fancy enough for cocaine, you know.
Since I’ve been sleeping so much, I’ve been making the most of that time by having 1) bad dreams, 2) frustrating dreams, and 3) sad dreams. One night I had this looping dream about zombies; every time I thought I could escape I’d open the door and was back at the beginning (type 1 and 2). One of the dreams from this morning (type 2 and 3) I was starting my first day in a grocery store but I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do. I guess I was supposed to bag groceries after people checked out, but I had to ring them up again? The first man was this old man who was very patient but nothing had a bar code on it and he had things in his cart like 3 buttons from a 5 button pack. People were getting annoyed and then my dad was there and I asked him if he could get someone to help me. As he was going he asked if I wanted one of the sweater things that the other cashiers wore (like the smock from Publix) and I yelled at him that I “No, I don’t want a sweater thing!” The line was snaking around while I was trying to figure out my job.
Dammit, Dad. Isn’t there a liquor store you can haunt? Or a cat to go spook somewhere? I mean, seriously, what a fucking dad thing to say when I need help. I don’t need a sweater thing. I don’t know what I need.