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I'm A Soul Man

So, something that interests me....

Diane told me on sunday that I was sleeping restlessly.

Not a big deal; she asked if I was having odd dreams, because I was clawing her and moaning, grinding my teeth and flailing around. "No," I said, "I don't think so." Actually, it occurred to me, I haven't been able to remember any more than the vaguest details about any of my dreams since I started taking the pills. I was told, and completely understand, that they are going to take time to adjust to my chemestry. That there will be a period of adjustment where I get used to "not being depressed".

I'm not sure they're working, and here's why:

I start off by suspecting the pills to begin with. With what I went through (and I'm not "boo hooing"), seeing what mediction did to Jeff, I was never keen on it. He said that they make you think you're crazy by doping you up and showing you "happy" (ok, I'm paraphrasing, I'm writing this shit, sit back and enjoy). That they brainwash you to accept their reality enough that you forget your own. I've always approached this as "my common sense". I don't always abide by it, in fact hardly ever. Some other part of me tries to give everything a try. Learn by doing something new. So, after gentle suggestion from my therapist, I freely decided to give it a go, to try medication to decide whether or not it can help me. I mean, I'm not crazy. I'm not schitzophrenic, like Jeff was, and as much as I like to remember the good things about the times we hung out, there were times when I was truly scared.

Anyway, I'm digressing. Point is, I've been on the pills three weeks, this coming friday. How do I feel...?

My jaw has been sore for a while, because apparently, I've been grinding my teeth in my sleep. That's actually nothing new, I've know for a while that I do it, I've just never been this sore. Last night while sleeping, I kicked myself out of bed. I put my feet against the wall and pushed myself out of bed. That got me thinking....

I know that in my head, I'm still impatient with people at work. I usually react to them in the way that is not only civil, is sometimes down right cheerful. That's not how I think, but it's how I feel. So maybe the meds just aren't right. Maybe I'm just storing shit up and not venting consciously anymore. Instead, it's coming out while I sleep. Is that better?

Maybe it's just that I'm paranoid. Maybe I'm resisting my efforts to change. I know there is a change in me somewhere. But I always set up the opportunity to change to fail, in a sense. Some other part of me seems to know that something is off and crashes the whole plan.

Maybe that means that I need some other meds.

Maybe some part of me knows I'm better off leaving it alone.

posted by September @ 11:06 PM