Thursday, January 7, 2010

All My Friends Will Soon Be Strangers...

I have not experienced any strong emotions since I fell in love with Debbie almost a year ago, thanks to mood stabilizers (Abilify) and SSRIs (Zoloft, Wellbutrin). They--my emotions--are like old, wild friends I used to know--the way you drift apart from your high school friends during college, and drift away from your college friends upon graduation--their memory and our escapades fading in my mind a little bit more each day, til it seems I am a totally different person than I was just a few years ago when riding the dizzying highs and lows of mania/depression, left alone and abondoned to a strange realm of the commonplace. I have not been 'cured,' but I have been effectively treated for my illness. I live a relatively normal, stable life.

My medication has worked so effectively that I don't feel like a walking zombie (as I did on Lithium), but I don't 'feel' much at all. The flame of exuberance has become a pilot-light. I don't have strong opinions anymore, am not feverishly working on some new project, experiencing an explosion of thoughts and desire to create, seduced by passion. Normal is predictable, and kind of boring.

Still, if someone asked, I would tell them it is better than the alternative. A lot of those emotions, I think, are associated with being younger and things being new and exciting. I will turn 30 in a couple of months, and stability is looking more attractive than craziness, and I am just starting to settle into life, rather than bouncing around its brim. Craziness looks a lot more like a nuisance than any kind of siren song.

Still, I miss the fire, that Zorba-zest for life and all its little things of joy and sorrow. Can I have both--stability and passion? Is it the meds, or has life just become more common-place? Do I need a new set of eyes? Yes! But how to achieve that? I'm phasing out the Zoloft, so we will see if that helps any. It's amazing to think I could just stop with the meds and that emotional instability, the good and bad of it, would start to drift up to the surface again and begin to creep over my mind like a vine, til normalcy is strangled out in its boa-constrictor grip and reality as I know it puffs out its last breath, surrendering to the black light of the naked, untouched mind, sinking, slowly, to the bottom of the sea.

1 comment:

Rob Peach said...

Perhaps it's not so much the meds as it is a general sense of self-acceptance. A housewarming, or homecoming, that you've put off for long enough now. Kudos, Rob. I share in your peace and its many desires.