Archive for August, 2008

two kinds of grey

this isn’t last spring’s grey,
the kind of grey that made no sense,
(that seeped around the edges of even
the flowerbeds, in brilliant
sunshine and scarlet)
bubbled up from somewhere deep,
poison to the plant life
with every step I took

this is the kind of grey that is low-grade
not in so much contrast with the weather
and the local flora
but comes in
from outside

pushing my own lines of
the brain chemistry
the same not-color of everything
I stole

laying out someone else’s credit card
with a smooth snick
as soulless as my sex life
and with a lower interest rate



I was on Prozac so long I forgot what “normal” felt like.  That I’d spent a couple months freaking the fuck out and crying all the time before I started taking it didn’t help, of course, ’cause that wasn’t really normal either.

The last week and a half, I’ve remembered what “normal” felt like, and I’ve been really grateful to have that back.

And tonight, after fighting it really hard all goddamned day, I remember what “crying for three hours for no clearly defined reason” feels like.  I also suddenly remember what “sitting there stirring spaghetti sauce and having a fucking panic attack” feels like.  Prozac took all the anxiety out of my days (and shoved it down the throat of my nights, but what do you do).  And now I have it back.  I think I had convinced myself that after a few months of living without that constant tension in my shoulders and burning in my gut that I would be able to coach myself into ditching that reaction, because obviously I know now that this is brain chemistry shit and not just The Way Things Have To Be.  I know better.  So I can react better, now, right?

Apparently not.

It doesn’t feel very good. I don’t feel very good.  I’m not whining, and I’m sure it’ll all be ok, I’m just noting.  I mean, it’s kind of scary, because I thought meds had given me some space to really figure something out, but I guess I got ahead of the game.  I guess I got a little too optimistic.

You know what, it doesn’t matter.  Because I was more self-destructive on Prozac than I was before I started taking it.  I made poor choices while I was on it because it enabled me to not immediately feel some of the consequences of those choices, and it sucked the color out of my fucking life and every bit of passion I ever had for anythign right the fuck out of me.  I am not getting back on any goddamned medication.  I will just have to feel better in the morning.

And if I don’t, I will feel better at some point over the next few months, for sure.

Bah, screw this navel gazing shit.