Posted by Poet on July 8, 2006, at 11:23:27
Dr. Clueless asked me if I'm all right. When I walked into T's office, she gave me a worried look and asked if I'm okay.
I am not all right. I am not okay. I know I'm depressed. The catch is why.
Is it because
I am tapering off of Effexor XR and it's withdrawal? Though it's taken a year to go from 300mg to 75mg and I never felt depressed until I went from 112.50mg to 75mg. That's not that much of a difference: I went from 300 to 225 with no effects.
I'm taking the first of six classes that my warped brain says will finally get me a job that uses my warped brain. I feel bad if I miss two out of 35 questions on the tests. I was never a straight A student, I don't get why this is now so important to me now. Maybe if I get all As I'll get the job? That's dumb, educational pun intended.
I got a call the morning of a job interview that that I shouldn't come in because they hired someone else. I came close to crying in front of my T when she asked about how it went. I never cry in therapy and a lost job interview is hardly tear worthy compared to the other stuff I should be talking about.
I lost it at work and have a verbal warning that one more outburst and I am fired.
The house is full of cat fur and usually I am a very obessesive cleaner. I just don't care.
I wish there was a test that could determine if what's happening is chemical or situational. I suppose it doesn't matter. I keep telling my T that things don't matter. She keeps telling me they do.
The only good thing about this, from the bulimic point of view is that when I'm depressed I don't feel like eating. So at least I'll feel good about my body even if my mind is messed up. I realize how sick my thinking is.
Sorry to be so long. So boring. So Poet.
Poet
poster:Poet
thread:665098
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20060703/msgs/665098.html