Well, the crushing anxiety is back. And I can feel the depression creeping up as well. I know, I KNOW, it’s not my fault, I have a disease, but it’s hard sometimes not to be angry at myself, to feel ridiculous in general, and like I’m not a real person. Sometimes I feel like a robot impostor, standing on the sidelines, observing the humans, taking notes so as to better imitate them and try to pass myself off as one. I guess that despite the fact that the stigma surrounding mental disorders has lessened greatly, I still feel like I should  just be able to slap myself and snap out of it, you know? Or maybe you don’t. Do you suffer from depression? Anxiety? Any type of anything that makes you feel like there’s a monster living inside of you? I don’t respond to normal life stressors in a normal way. I worry excessively, I take things personally, I often get angry at inappropriate times. I feel numb – I don’t (can’t) cry a lot, which seems odd, right? Depression = sadness = crying, but for me depression = anger and hopelessness = worrying excessively about everything until every situation ends in something catastrophic. I’m not kidding – I can extrapolate anything until it eventually becomes the end of the world and me and/or my family dying unhappily. I used to think it was my fault, like something I had done or something about the way I’ve lived my life was causing the sinking despair and the lying awake in the middle of the night worrying, but I’ve come to realize it’s nothing I’ve done to myself – this, unfortunately, IS JUST HOW I AM. The other day when I was chatting with my doctor about all things pre-pregnancy and going over my medical history she asked how I’ve been doing since going off the crazy pills and I told her the truth, mostly fine, sometimes not.  The motivation behind quitting the Wellbutrin is the motivation behind pretty much everything else I’m doing right now, pregnancy. I want to get pregnant. I want to be pregnant. I want to have a baby. Maybe more than one. So I stopped taking my medication (there were other reasons as well,  but the main motivator was the impending baby). There are different schools of thought on anti-depressants during pregnancy ranging from rabidly anti (you’re harming your baby! who cares about you? suck it up sister and stop being a wuss!) to rabidly pro (what about mom’s health? the baby can’t be healthy if the mom isn’t healthy! you need to take care of you so you’ll be able to take care of a baby!). Apparently there are some anti-depressants that are okay to take before, during and after pregnancy – even during boob feeding. And I mean, I guess I get that. If you’re suffering from such severe depression that you’re thinking of drowning your kids in the bathtub, isn’t Prozac in the boob milk a better option? And besides, our water supply is totally tainted with all of that crap anyway – no really, I heard it on the radio this morning (and the radio, like the internet, never lies). All of those antibiotics, antidepressants, illicit drugs, vitamins etc etc that we’re pumping into our bodies and pissing into the toilet? They’re in the water supply.  So, I guess what I’m saying is, what’s your opinion? How nutty should I get before I give up?  And by give up I mean put a stop to the crazy train and start taking meds again, not chase a bottle of Xanax with a bottle of Jack and end it all, so don’t freak out. The point is, sometimes it’s just so hard wrestling the demons – and when they don’t behave, I’m miserable. Like today. Like yesterday. Some days are okay, but the bad days are bad. And demon wrestling is hard fucking work, man.  I’m sick of writing about all of this. I’m sick of feeling all of it. Mostly I just wish I was a normal person, with normal emotions – sure, we all get sad and mad sometimes, but wouldn’t it be nice not to be ruled by it? Not to be constantly talking myself down? Not to have to check in with myself at least once a day to make sure I’m coping. If wishes were fishes…

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