Crazy, in fact. Depression is a sickness, right? It's not unusual for me to be down this time of year, but it's worse this year. I'd been proudly smoking my cannabis and managing just fine without any of the prescribed anti-depressants for several months, but with the winter weather, the cough/cold and poison oak outbreak, I have become more depressed and begun using the little pills again, upping yesterday's dosage to a second 37.5 mg of Effexor(venlafaxine). I even contemplated going to the 75 mg. this morning, but now have decided that another 37.5 will do me fine. I took a smaller toke also, theorizing that the less I abuse the sore spot in my throat, the less I'll cough. It may work, as I'm much better this morning than last night, which included the two basketball games and pretty continuous use of my voice for a few hours. What a fun way to spend some time. Golf this morning, so up early, getting ready to head over to Ed's house where he'll drive us down to Laguna Seca to play with the workers who can't play during the week (it's Saturday 1/15).
MRI scheduled 2/23 contributes to the depression, no question. It happens every year. I just don't like winters and don't care if I never see Bear Valley again, at this point anyway. It's likely I'll see it again, just not snowboard, but who knows?
I started this blog last night, feeling really lousy, and I took that second pill, so now I feel better. I keep rationalizing to myself that I must be depressed, as lousy as I've been feeling lately. Much as I dislike the idea of putting the manufactured chemicals into my body, I can also accept that chemistry is a remarkable science, one of man's greatest accomplishments, but at what cost?
Crazy though? I am continuously reminded of the behavioral changes that have taken place since my surgery. Also of the Allman Brother's song that includes the lyrics, "good lord I feel like I'm dying". Now the third reminder that I best telling myself on a regular basis, "quit feeling sorry for yourself and get your lazy ass out of bed. Go out there and live, or lay around and die".I've never had any desire to maintain a diary like this, and I know that blogs aren't intended for that purpose, but unless I gain world fame from this banal banter, I'm pretty much hoping that no one ever reads it. That's crazy, right?
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