Today, I found myself in the grips of passionate, irrational anger to the point of wanting to destroy things. Because of a toy. You see, this toy is not just any toy that makes me hate being alive. Usually, toys that sing songs (gag), do dances, or make giant slimy messes are the toys that I hate most. Hence my status as Grinch of the century. I especially detest slime. UGH. bleh! Messy! I can handle arts and crafts, but stickers get me mad too because no matter how carefully I police them, I >will< find a sticker in the dog's Floof later that day. Play-Doh and slime are toys for playing outside. Someday I will get us a plastic picnic table so that those toys can be played with more often, but that involves money, and, well... I don't have any of that right now. But THIS toy! It starts out looking like a generically-shaped fuzzy thing. The player's job is to pull out each strand of fuzz, ONE. BY. ONE., to reveal wha...
The inevitable has arrived. I have exhausted every neurotransmitter able to be addressed with antidepressants, even with combinations. The magic pills are no longer anything more than expensive, bad-tasting tic-tacs that make my tremors so bad that my penmanship suffers. I tapered off the millions of medications and signed up for a course of electroconvulsive therapy. I had been afraid of ECT; it carries such a stigma and history. But I had been crippled by the shaking, the anxiety, and side effects from the pharmaceuticals... not to mention the fatigue and blurred cognition. I'm in my 3rd week of ECT sessions, and I'm dealing with a lot of interesting things from that: My short term memory is pretty terrible but I am starting to regain my long-term memory. Piercing headaches afterward. Taking a beta blocker and Imitrex and Toradol have helped keep them milder. It's not pain-free, but it's a heck of a lot milder. I have so many mixed emotions. M...