Monday, April 03, 2006

Preparing to burst at the seams last night at my new found distaste for writing, I called my wife at work to briefly discuss my troubles.
I should know better.
She always has some newly discovered logic to present; she allows light to be shed upon the gloomier parts of my life which I have difficulty seeing. But worst of all, she makes sense.
For the remaining couple of hours she's at work she semi-ponders my situation only to come home, sit back in a chair and present a possible problem: Zoloft. She asks if it's possible that because I'm being weaned off of said AD and have yet to have a replacement med added to my medicinal battery that I am back to beating the shit out of myself (a trait I was infamous for PRIOR to being diagnosed and medicated.)
I explain to her what my head doc explained to me; that AD's generally have an adverse affect on people with Bipolar; that they tend to heighten negative mood swings; that this is the primary reason I am being taken off of that particular med.
In hindsight, I think her being home helped to eradicate a great many negative feelings yesterday. We ate dinner as a family, watched a little tube, squeezed a little boob, and then I found myself back on the couch, laptop resting in my lap, pecking at a previous WIP.
It felt good.
It felt damn good.
As I read through some of what I have (call it a refresher if you must) I realized that what I DO have is still as good to me if not better than the last time I'd worked on it (a personal barometer for me if there ever was one.) That said, I continued to needle away, all the while wondering why I'd allowed myself to get where I was earlier in the day.


Blogger Tom said...

Your wife is a jewel among gems.

9:39 AM  
Blogger Juanita J. Sanchez said...

Tom, I second that emotion. And [sic], I'm really glad you found your way out of that bad place.

7:19 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home