Dr. Saint scaled back my wellbutrin and put me on a low dosage of cymbalta, or as I like to call it: werewolfitol. It is some pretty amazing stuff I must say and unlike other meds it doesn’t take days and weeks to build up in your system before you see a difference. This stuff had me humming on day one. There are some light side effects that I expect will go away with some time, such as I feel slightly disoriented from time to time and a tad dizzy. My jaw and forehead muscles feel tense at times and I need to make a concentrated effort to relax them which is actually more distressing to me, it gets very uncomfortable and I have no clue what this looks like to the observer. I have only been on it for a few days so I have nothing much else to report on it.
I still find myself in an isolated state. I think this is to be expected not only because of my circumstances but also mildly due in part to my reaction to social activities and media. I think after a time people begin to notice a downward pattern and no longer wish to engage in it, expecting a negative outcome. When you see a guy make lengthy diatribes, no matter how well informed, on a number of subjects you become less likely to open up to them. I suppose I understand this, though I am not certain I understand the expectation that people have of putting something out into the world and not having it met with criticism. This is an unrealistic expectation, only a deluded mind operates this way, and I think that social media is training deluded minds. It gives us nothing but “like” buttons and encourages us to “share” inanities, if we don’t or if we call people out on these things we are deviants. We are the outsiders, the freaks, the aberrations, we who question this cycle of insipid drivel. I adore the idea of social media as a forum for maintaining contact with a large group of people, I loathe the way it is implemented and what it actually is and has become.
I invented a term for something that I thought was clever but in retrospect I think that it could be applied to just about anything that we overdo. The term is: “romantic positivity” as I said however I think you could apply it to anything that you senselessly shit out in abundance. Romantic positivity is one of the obvious ones, you see people who put posters up all over their cubicles with happy slogans and tell you that happiness is a choice. They tell you that you just have to be/think positive and the universe will reward you. It is all nonsense of course. These people were more than likely deeply traumatized as children, either sexually or physically and are making up for something, trying desperately to cling to some kind of hope that there can be a ray of light in their lives. Maybe there can, I am not suggesting that there can’t. Alas, they make it their mission to include the rest of humanity in their own personal crusade of happiness and positivity. We all have ups and downs. We have them for a reason. We have the downs so that we know when we are up, so we know the difference. To deny ourselves the down is to negate the up. So really, you positivity romanticists are achieving the exact opposite effect. Go watch a tragic romance movie in your underwear while eating double fudge chocolate icecream and have a good cry. Get it all out and come back content, not happy, not super positive, just content. But hey, don’t take my advice for it, I take pills to balance out my moods and I am just barely content myself so…
I saw my wife in a play. I hadn’t mentioned it to this point because this is about me. I just wanted to make a note here however, she starred in a community play and she melted some faces. She is so incredibly talented. She has a real gift and I am truly happy for her. I give her every ounce of support that I am capable of from near and from afar. There were some things about the whole production that had me slightly worried to be honest but it isn’t as though I was going to tell my wife that she couldn’t do something that she loved, not that she would listen if if I had, nor would I expect her to. I just wouldn’t want to be that kind of a guy. But I did have some misgivings, some of them were kind of legitimate. For example, she managed to gain a fan from a far away large city who sent her fan mail. No big deal. Until he returned with a dozen long stemmed roses in person. No big deal. At least when he found out she was married he backed down, however it might not have gone down quite that way… Not that this would be a reason for me to tell her to stop. I love my wife but this is something that is a part of her life that I can’t make a part of mine no matter how much I try. I want to be involved, it just doesn’t work with our current situation. This is related to my last post about being detached, by the time I find myself integrated with the people involved I am too far behind to bother trying to play catch up and get overwhelmed. This whole world is well beyond me and it has left me behind, I wonder at times if this wasn’t some of my wife’s intention. Her own world where she can escape having to think about or worry about me. It doesn’t bother me, it makes sense. I have been a handful.
I would like for there to be so much more for me to say. There really isn’t. New meds, new week. I was hesitant to even update with a post this week but seeing as I saw the good doctor I figured I should.