Oft' Disrobed Professional Poser. Civilian Philosopher. Sensitive Arteest.
Hide your kids; human bodies, arts, and sciences below.
https://linktr.ee/onlycatyouneed
Over the past 6 years, I have been on a medication known by name as Effexor, its generic name, Venlafaxine.
Over the past 6 years I have felt myself change. In some ways, for the better. I've become a more blunt, less emotionally malleable, a lot more direct.
But I've also experienced a worsening of PMDD-induced emotional turmoil--the starring emotion being a deep, righteous rage; at least it *felt* righteous.
To be frank, the world has disappointmented me in ways I didn't know it could. I am disillusioned, I think, beyond repair. I knew the world hates women, hates the "others" of society--I've always felt it.
But even I didn't realize just how deeply, and to what depraved lengths "good men," will go to punish women for being. To the point of forced birth. To the point of death. A lot of you, I truly believe, do have blood on your hands.
So, over the last 3 years, in particular, I have balked at those who mentioned my anger; the absolute gall to condescend to any woman who just had her legal rights wiped from the Constitution, at the same time I was actually being tossed in the proverbial garbage by my then-fiancé, because I couldn't promise him a baby...
So I've been angry. Men are *always* angry. The emotional whims of men, from the stocks to the battlefield, are why civilian lives *suck*. So I decided to be "just one of the guys," and be angry. So. Fucking. What?
...but over the last year, as I found new reasons for joy, yet my depression and anger devolved into further nihilism, cynicism, and a state of near emotionlessness...and as I retrace my emotional steps with every increase in this medication, to counteract the increased depression...as I sit, shaking with theoretical rage, even when unprovoked, I began to wonder. About my hormones. About my emotions...about the lack thereof.
So I did some Google wondering. And I found...a lot. This isn't my coming to Jesus. This isn't me saying that an element of my anger isn't righteous--it certainly is. This isn't me trying to escape blame for lack of control over my emotions.
But it's a theory.
And it's me deciding with the approval and monitoring of my prescriber, that it's time to taper off Venlafaxine, and find my baseline.
Please consider pharmaceuticals carefully, especially if you haven't found much success with them in the past. You may be beating a dead horse.
I am beginning, at long last, to find myself unsurprised by the depravity of some dudes on this planet anymore.
You have to Defensive Woman to get by without getting abused or coerced, assaulted or killed, gaslit or manipulated, at any given turn. Even then, you're still going to find yourself subject to run-of-the-mill ridicule for your feminity, your lack of putting effort into your feminity, your lack of speaking up, your proclivity for speaking out, your inability to be a dominant force, and your "domineering" emasculating presence.
It's a race built upon a track of horseshit. There is no way to win. I decline participation.