This must be what meth is like

This lady.
This is what I feel like right now.





Here's The Thing:

Don't ever.

Don't fucking EVER.

Go off your medications cold turkey.

First, let me tell you that it was not my intention to go off my medication. Like everything that's happened lately with the medical system, my depression and anxiety medication refills went horribly wrong. I've been off of them - because I ran out of them - since Saturday. Today is Wednesday, did you know that?

I'm working from home today because I FINALLY got my general practitioner to refill my existing prescriptions this morning, but he didn't think it was a good idea for me to be at work. Or in public at all.

I've been pacing around my house looking for projects all day. I hung a curtain rod. I hung some photos. I finished remodeling the bathroom. I worked all day from home as well.

And now I'm sitting here blogging because I don't know what the fuck else to do. I'm literally shaking with anxiety and this weird nervous energy I'm not used to. I'm at the point where I'm considering demolishing a wall in my house just so I have something to fucking DO.

It's raining, so yard work is out of the question.

My roommate cooked, so that's not necessary.

I'm too anxious to give a fuck about cleaning, I want to build something/break something/fix something/burn something.

I want to smoke 800 cigarettes at the same time. I want to shave my head so that I can watch it grow back all night long.

It probably doesn't help that I've been unable to really sleep for about 4 days now, and I'm exhausted and wired at the same time. I feel like this is what coke would do to me. Or meth. Or not being depressed.

I may just write a novel here, actually, so that I have something to keep my hands busy with.

I've cried three times today for no reason at all. I've yelled at my computer for taking too long to open an Excel worksheet. I swore out loud at a stupid email question, and I swore out loud when I fucked something up in a work request.

I want to dance and cry and break things all at the same time. The only things I don't want to do are sit still, masturbate, and sleep. Oh god, if only I could sleep.

I tried watching TV and didn't make it to the first commercial before I had to get up and move. I bought a cross stitch pattern yesterday to give my hands something to do, and that lasted two rows before I decided that the stupid Bengal tiger could go fuck itself if it wanted me to stitch it into existence any longer.

I'm thinking that booze might be the only option, although I've been directly told it's counter-productive to my general feelings of health and well being.

Frankly, I want to try to demolish the glass Coors bottle with my teeth so that I can spend the evening pulling glass shreds out of my gums with a pair of needle nose pliers. At least I would have something to do.

I literally have no point in writing this, no joke to make, no reason to write. I have nothing to say, just feel like it's helping to type and type and type.

So this should be super fun to read.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go walk between the kitchen and living room for the next hour.