WonkyLemur's mental randomness.

The Despereaux Test

The above image is the disc menu screen for The Tale of Despereaux. In my delirious post-Zoloft state, seeing this image Friday night made me burst into immediate hysterical tears. My husband, in between laughing uproariously at me, did his best to comfort me. I wasn't upset, though--it's just that anything heart-warming makes me cry lately. It's ridiculous. My medication manager also laughed at me when I told her about this, and suggested that I look at it again in a couple of weeks to gauge my reaction. So, Psychology Today, take note.

Too long to tweet...

I didn't want to spam people's Twitter and Facebook feeds by splitting these thoughts into 140-character chunks, so here ya go.

Tuesday, March 20th, was the last time I took Zoloft. I'd been on it for around 4 years, eventually getting up to a rather high dosage. As per my previous post, I decided to stop taking it because the side effects were getting out of hand (read: holy shit I got fat). So I found a nice doctor to help me wean myself off the stuff, and for a couple of days after my last dose things were cool.

Saturday night, things stopped being cool. I had a panic attack, which segued into a crying jag. The crying jag continued Sunday morning. Tuesday brought another panic attack and more crying. I hadn't had an attack in two years, and now I've had two in a couple of days. Added to this is for the last couple of days I've felt utterly, utterly miserable, physically --I feel like I have the flu.

Which brings me to my point (Ha! See, there was one!): I understand better now how people who've had problems with drugs can give in and backslide. Detoxing feels fucking terrible. TERRIBLE. And it is so, so difficult to stay away from what your body is telling itself it needs. What's the harm, right? Just a little bit, to take the edge off this horrible feeling? I'm incredibly fortunate in that I am a homemaker --without children to be responsible for-- and have the luxury of just feeling like shit. My husband has been a darling through this, letting me fritter my days away guilt-free playing WarCraft or sleeping once the necessities of the day have been taken care of. (I may be losing my shit, but the catboxes still need to be cleaned and the laundry done) I keep looking at the cabinet where the meds are, but I manage to keep away because I know if I let myself take some, any amount, to feel "normal" again or just not like I'm dying, then I will have to go through all of this shit AGAIN. This is temporary. As difficult as it is, it will stop in time. I'm not interested in prolonging the process.

But it's hard. It's hard, and it really really sucks.

Hopeful Lemur is Hopeful

So!

I've made an executive decision about my body and health, after lots of research: I'm going to try weaning myself off of Zoloft. Everything I've read about it has lead me to the (probably painfully obvious) conclusion that it's the main culprit behind my weight gain and the difficulty I'm having slimming back down. The amount I've gained in the last 3-4 years (since starting it) is ridiculous, and none of my lifestyle habits are horrible enough to explain it.

I won't lie--I'm nervous about stopping the Zoloft. I spent the first 30 years of my life pretty fucked up. Zoloft saved my life, helped me to become who I actually am supposed to be. If the weight gain had stopped at 10 or 20 pounds, I'd be more than happy to just live with it--better slightly overweight but happy and sane than hot but out of my tree. But it didn't, and it's interfering with my life: I'm miserable about how I look, I don't feel physically healthy, and I often avoid social situations because I'm ashamed and don't want people to see me. I have long hair not because I want to but because I haven't gone to my stylist in two years because I don't want him to see how chunky I've gotten.

That, my dears, is fucking ridiculous.

So I'm giving this a shot. Always in the past I've been able to lose weight easily with just not being stupid about eating and with some minor exercise. I know that it may be a bit harder now that I'm older, but the fact is that I'm just (luckily) genetically disposed toward easily being able to get an athletic figure. I'm hopeful that in a few months once my metabolism recovers from the chemicals that I'll be able to sync up the me in the mirror with the me in my head.

Discouraged Lemur is discouraged.

And hungry.

Really, really hungry.

Almost two weeks ago I signed up for Weight Watchers Online. The first week went really well: I lost 3 pounds, even with treating myself to the occasional Ring Ding, and felt in control of my own body for the first time in a very long time. I was excited. I'd been getting depressed and desperate, seeing my weight slowly keep creeping up regardless of anything I tried. Following the WW program seemed to be working, even though I'm not comfortable being the sort of person who pays attention to getting unsweetened iced tea or whether the green beans have butter on them when she goes out to eat. I enjoy food, and I prefer to just not eat like an idiot rather than weighing out 28 grams of Cheerios (which is not that much, btw) or pouring my glass of milk into a measuring cup first.

This week has not been going nearly as well. I'm hungry--all the time. As a result I am also very pissy and quite distracted. Adding to my irritation, frustration, and other unpleasant -tions, I gained back 1.5 pounds. How can I be gaining weight back when I am distractingly hungry all freaking day? Vegetables just don't work for me--I'd have to sit and eat them all day like a gorilla. I don't want to overload on fruits, because of the sugar. I'm trying the "drink lots of water" trick--that just results in having to pee every half an hour in addition to being hungry all day.

I miss not being disgusted by what I see in the mirror. But it's really starting to feel like I'm never going to be a healthy weight again.

Oh hey, a blog post!

So hey, it's been a while! Sorry for the radio silence, but:

• I don't like to bitch on the Internet, especially when the people I'm bitching about could see it.
• Struggling with depression, and I'm very private. Also, what do you care, right?
• Busy busy busy.


I'd really wanted to get my landscaping cleaned up this year, but my photosensitivity has complicated that. So I tell people that I leave the weeds in because the roots hold the topsoil. I do have a couple of grow beds in the veggie garden set up, though, and the beans, cukes, and beets are looking very good. Yay!

The project to make our Ikea bookshelves look like Tetris is coming along nicely. I'll have to post pictures soon, because it really just amuses the hell out of me.

I now officially have a shitload of pets. Still the three cats, Osiris, Mina, and Mystery. Add to that the permanent adoption of formerly fostered hedgehog Dr. Gordon. I adopted a second lady rat from the Humane Society early this month, which is funny because I adopted my other girl *last* July. I'll be putting them in the same cage this week once the cages are deilivered. There's been some scuffles but no difficulties, so I think they'll be fine. Penny, the new girl, is so sweet. Well, all ratties are. I'm winning her over with treats and tummy scritches, and she's warming up to me much faster than Fanny did. I ended up bringing home two little boys (2 months) a little less than a week ago. Hershey is definitely the head guy, and is much, much braver than his brother. He was taking papaya from my fingers the day after I brought them home and loves to scamper all over me when I take him out for cuddles. Marshmallow (aka "PoopPoop") is much more timid. He won't take treats from me yet, and when I pick him up he prefers to curl up behind my neck under my ponytail and hide out. He seems to like it when I'm holding his brother as well, so I've been doing that. Bucks can get up to 2 pounds, so I'll have to take pictures of them now while they're fuzzy and smaller than my hand.

I haven't been doing any art lately, although I have been quilting. My studio is just in too much turmoil right now to be a good working environment. I see all these artists with messy work areas and I just don't know how they do it!

Even though I'm more than busy enough taking care of the house and my zoo, I've been thinking about trying to get back into the workforce. I would like a new car, some of my own money, and to get out of the house. I've been hesitant, because I would most likely only be able to get some shit retail job and I've had quite enough of that. I'm tremendously grateful that it's a matter of wanting, not needing--believe me. It's been hard for me, though, being entirely dependent on my husband for money. He is completely open-handed and trusts me to not be stupid with our money--and he does always call it "our" money--but sometimes I still feel like a load (even though I work my ass off). I keep thinking that I need to sell some original art and prints and some quilts and all that, but I still can't quite believe that anyone would want it so I don't go there. Plus I feel that the market for homey crafts and art is pretty saturated right now, so what do I have to offer that's different? We'll see.

This post has gotten long enough, and I need some vittles. And more tea (thanks, insomnia). I'll try not to wait 8 months to post again. :)

 

 

 

Because YOU demanded it!

WonkyLemur's New England Webcomics Weekend Post!

Okay, so this was demanded by absolutely no one. Whatever.

Anyway.

Last Saturday my husband and I trekked alllll the way to Easthampton, MA for NEWW.  Exciting!  I was really looking forward to meeting some of my favorite artists, and nervous that I was going to make a complete ass of myself because I am intensely socially inept.  Luckily for me, many webcomic artists are also shy and socially inept.  The folks were all very nice--I got a hug from my doppelganger Sara McHenry, discussed cat flatulence with Danielle Corsetto, did not get stabbed by Jeph Jacques, and made John Allison laugh talking about turning my livingroom shelves into a giant Tetris game.  I also got to hang out with my Baby Brother Billy Barth and some friends on Saturday, which was awesome.

The swag:

Here we are in a handbasket...

I usually stay away from talking about these things, because religion and politics are very, very hot buttons with people--but this just blows my mind.

So I'll say this right now, proudly, defiantly: I do not hate Muslims.  I do not hate Islam, nor do I believe that Islam is our enemy.  At its base Islam is a religion of peace, as are they all.  Yes, some people have completely and utterly missed the boat and choose to interpret it in a way that was quite unlikely to have been intended--as with all religions.  It is the fanatics, not the religion, that are the problem.

I can not think of many things more hateful and CHILDISH than burning the Koran. WTF is wrong with you people???  Is this how you want to remember and honor the people who lost their lives in the September 11th attacks?  Really??  With an ignorant act of hatred and intolerance?  And just as bad are the idiots rioting and burning this asshat in effigy.

This escalation is ridiculous.  It needs to end someplace.  "But they started it!!" should remain in the kindergarten play yard, people.  Grow up.  Be bigger than that.  Turn the other cheek, if you will.

I do not claim to know the mind of God.  I consider that to be a very blasphemous attitude, actually. 

But I can't imagine that God can look upon any of this and do anything other than weep.

The days are shortening, the hedgehogs are migrating...

...summer is nearing its end.

On Friday I'll be bringing Gordon back to his momma.  I won't lie to you--this makes me sad.  While I still don't feel that I would ever choose one as a pet for myself, he is adorable and very fun to watch, and we've quite gotten used to him being here.  I won't really miss scrubbing his wheel, though, and I'm sure Jeff will be happy to have his computer room back as his very own.  Without a space heater constantly making the room around 80 degrees.

Luffs to you, little Stinky McGrumperson!

Elizabeth 3.1?

I'm trying to sew some slippers today, for The Pink Slipper Project, because working on the house has kept me from it for too long.  I've been getting frustrated, because I just don't have the table space to comfortably work with fabric.  One of my tables currently has a large hedgehog enclosure on it, true, but the rest is just...crap.

I've dreamed for years of being able to empty my storage unit and have all of my possessions actually within my possession, but now that I have them none of them seem to be relevant any longer.  Things that I was keeping for an apartment/home that I never got to have.  Things that I've just plain outgrown, because they were packed away when I was in my early 20s and I'm now in my mid-30s.  I spent my 20s either homeless or in a single room, so all of these things were put away with dreams of Someday.  Now, Someday is here--sort of--but none of this is of any use to me.

I've been spending the last couple of weeks drudging through the original Dragonlance: Chronicles books.  I still tear up about Sturm and Flint (even though I've read the series several times), but in general I didn't actually enjoy them.  I had to work to get through them.  I'm reading the Legends trilogy now, and...I kinda hate it.  The writing is bad and the character portrayals are juvenile and naive.  I love the Lost Chronicles, the War of Souls, the Dark Disciple.  Love them.  But the early stuff?  The stuff not even written by Weis and Hickman?  I'm tempted to use it for bedding for my rat.

The thing is, I have a lot of Dragonlance books.  Forgotten Realms (mostly Drizzt, which I've already stated I think are crap).  Conan.  Star Trek novelizations, both the original series and TNG.  Dozens of others.  Dozens and dozens of books all told--so many I don't even know the number--and now I wonder how many of them I actually want to keep?  All of these things that I've been paying to store for years, that were cherished in memory, now just taking up space, gathering dust and cat hair because I've outgrown them.

Also all of these art supplies.  All the paints and pastels and canvases and paper and sketchbooks.  The writing materials--the notes and manuscripts and piles of paper and drawers of pens.  I haven't used any of this in any serious way in at least four years.

Do I just pack all of this up again?  Throw it away?  I've always thought these things were involved with who I am.  Now it seems like it was all an important part of who I was but not who I am.  If I jettison all of this, will I be able to let go of the "was" and figure out the "am" and the "will be"?

Beth had a lot of potential, but she was incredibly, tremendously, fatally flawed.  Liz burned away the dross, discovered and tempered the steel.  If Elizabeth no longer needs the things from her past, then the compassion, wisdom, and gratitude she's discovered are more than fair compensation.

....

Well that was pretty convoluted.  Welcome to my brain, folks.

Excuse me, FDA...

Can we maybe add a side effect to the listings for Zoloft?

"Caution, possible side effects may include (once you have become a real live human through use of this product) bitter regret caused by pondering how different your life could have been--fewer stupid decisions made, fewer people tremendously hurt by you--if someone had given you this help sooner, instead of you spending the first three decades of your life completely batshit."

Thanks!

Love and kisses, Elizabeth