Let's all talk about me again.
Alright, now that everyone has shouted at each other and we all feel better lets get back to what the blog is all about: Me.
It’s 1:30, and I have an appointment with my shrink at 3:30. I want to compose my thoughts here because I think I’m going to dump him today, mostly because he’s not really helping that much.
I need to start by talking about how I’m not taking the Bupropion he prescribed anymore. Why?
I like how I am when I’m off it better than how I am when I’m taking it. I’m me. My natural brain chemistry is more to my liking.
My sex drive is how it should be. I actually want to fuck on a regular basis.
My creativity is significantly higher. I just recently figured out how I need to redesign my tattoo machine to make it better, sans Bupropion. I’ve begun the redesign and I’m actually excited about it again. It’s giving me hope that I won’t have to be someone’s moneymaking bitch for the rest of my life.
My dreams are more vivid and I can remember them. I like that better than not remembering my dreams. I feel more productive in those 8-10 hours than if I just wake up with nothing.
My fear of death isn’t any better or worse. I still don’t have line of sight to getting over it, but my best hope lies in Carter’s existence, and my fathering of him.
The immediate management changes at work have made my life there easier, and thus I’m generally happier and no longer need the meds to regulate that.
Let’s stay friends, and I’ll call you if I ever fall off the crazy wagon again.
Labels: Crazy, Metaphors for Sex
posted by lawryde at
1:45 PM
3 Comments:
As I am reading this post and the pain management clinic calls my cell phone and schedules me for an appointment... like a month from now.
I am like, "Why fucking bother?" It took a month for the orientation meeting and now another month for them. The absurdities of getting health care never stop.
At least you can drop the Trump on your psychiatrist and say, "You're fired!"
Freaking savages, I swear!~
By
Steve, at 4:25 PM, June 16, 2006
That's a great title. :)
By
Anonymous, at 6:35 PM, June 16, 2006
About head shrinkers and drugs: I've been watching the Sopranos lately. I don't watch a whole lot of TV, but Sopranos, c'mon...
The show is awesome, but I hate the fucking pysciatrists in the the show. All they do is prescribe this drug or that.
Most people don't need drugs to resolve their issues. They need actual therapy; they need to talk about it.
Perhaps I'm way out of line here, but I think this is the American way. The Quick Fix.
Drugs are not the answer. If you don't feel your pysciatrist is helping, drop him. Find another.
By
neurotik, at 3:35 AM, June 21, 2006
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