Bad

It is July 8th.  It is almost four months since Michael's death.  It is less humid today.  My house is a disaster.  And I am so depressed that I want to die.  Or maybe it's that I feel so ill.  Not really sure.

I can't tell what's real.  I can't tell if this is how I truly feel and the Cymbalta has been masking it all the time, or whether this is all about withdrawal.  Or a combo.  It's certainly partly the drugs... my head swims and feels like I want it to fall off, and I'm nauseated and headachy and just pretty crappy-feeling.  The only thing that makes me feel better is food, and that's pretty much counter to everything that I'm trying to do here.  I want to go to bed and pull the covers over my head and wait this out.  I would do it if I knew that there was a finite time... a few days, a week.  I've stopped taking it entirely as of today, and that's got to speed this up, because I don't think I can do gradual withdrawal like this.  Or I'm not doing it right, also possible.  I'm taking fish oil and Benadryl, and next week, when the package comes, I'll try the amino acids.  Honestly, I'd try anything in the universe that wasn't another antidepressant at this point.

The stupid thing is that I think I'd be all right if my head didn't feel so bad, and I can't tell whether that's about the drugs (good bet) or just everything else.  The trouble is that the whole path starts with Tim.  Before then, I was doing ok.  But that's when I started weaning off the Cymbalta, plus the whole up and down thing with this so-called... relationship?  Friendship?  After the beginning teen angst, it's more the combo of the Cymbalta withdrawal and the realizing that sex would actually help me feel a lot better.  And that second part, combined with the first, is making me consider a lot of behaviors that may not be at all wise.  It's a big internet out there...  although it's changed a lot since last I was looking for a friend there.

I am stupid even to think that.  Honestly, I was so much better off when I had the year thing in my head.

Also, I think that there's something wrong with Tim.  I mean, not disturbing wrong, but either he's really not particularly interested or he's afraid to actually be with me, and either way is not working.  If he's not interested, I see no reason for him to keep texting... so there we are.  I have invited him to do things, I've practically offered to sleep with him, and I've gotten no response at all.  Lots of chat about movies.  So either he's afraid of me or being with me, or something else is weird.  And I do not need another stray puppy. I really do NOT need another stray puppy.

I'm feeling a little better since I started writing this... I don't know if it's the drugs or too much food or the Tim thing or what, but except for the excruciating head, things almost feel ok.