#tripping on zoloft

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Zoloft day 11

I really need an orgasm.

Can't believe the one thing that can help me finally figure out how to establish healthy relationships with other people is also what stops me from consumating them.

I'd be more frustrated about it, but I literally can't.

Everything else in my life has gotten so much better, except the one thing.

Let's hope the effect wears off after a few weeks.

Fuck.

#tripping on zoloft #zoloft #sertraline #ssri

[devilfruitdyke]

my parents calling my brother fat in front of me is so fucking annoying. first of all who gives a shit second do you think this makes me feel safe around you

#i know that like. as soon as i get insecure i bite back and start listing grades #but fucking excuse me if i didnt have time to work out enough between last months 12 volunteer hours 2 science field trips #and FIVE TESTS WITH PERFECT SCORES. #its not blowoff classes either its fucking algebra and anatomy and ap bio 😭 #do you think i wasnt. studying?? #i get upstairs after they do this shit and i can hear mentions of what i ate and when im working out tomorrow #DETATCHED FROM REALITY I FUCKING SWEAR. #did you not think id figure it out 💀💀 #this is the same shit they pulled after id been on zoloft for a year and lost like 20 pounds. #'well... you had been eating a big bowl of ice cream every now and then!' #all while im in the back seat shaking from low blood sugar #dont even pity like this post i am BETTER THAN MY PARENTS #the mindset now and forever is 'why would i be insecure you are digusting 💀'

[buglover3000]

the mommy issues to the separation anxiety when gone bc my mom has become one of my only friends pipeline

#she’s gone on a trip to visit family this weekend and I’m so anxious with her gone #to be fair it’s also the ocd (the Zoloft is fighting for its life rn) #delete later #she’s been gone 4 hrs? 3? and I’m already like when is she coming back #and I use to pray for times when I moved out now I’m like WHERE IS SHE #tbh our relationship is still rocky but she’s one of my only constants and I hate change #personal

[maybeicanbesaved]

bro today was such a bad day. like i had a crying breakdown in the parking lot of aldi type of bad day 🙃

#funnily enough it had nothing to do with my mom. for once lol #it started over something so dumb and minor but my brain made it a big deal and also i’ve been missing doses of my zoloft so #my tear ducts & shit on a hair trigger dhdkkfhs #but yeah then it just kept going shitty and i was drained entirely and couldn’t even force myself to go into walmart to do my main shopping #so it was all pretty much a waste of a day/trip #now i’m back home and it’s 7:30pm and im exhausted mentally emotionally & physically #have a major headache from crying and the anxiety/stress #and all i wanna do is go right to sleep #personal #sorry for all the vent posts lately idk i just need to get it out

[thedisablednaturalist]

I think what trips people up in the neurodivergent vs. physically disabled discourse is that you can't treat disabilities the same way as you treat LGBTQ+ identities. The goal for LGBTQ+ identities if for us all to one day be equal to cishet+ people. Someones gender identity or sexuality or race will not make them inherently more privileged or oppressed eventually. But with illnesses it's different.

I'm an ambulatory wheelchair user. I am disabled, but someone who is paralyzed is less privileged than me even though we both use wheelchairs and are disabled. For example, if I reach an area that is inaccessible, I can stand up and go around or remove the obstacle. It is not as easy for someone who is a full time wheelchair user. But we are still both disabled. Someone who has only ADHD and no physical disabilities is more privileged than someone with physical disabilities. Both people are disabled. However if the building is burning down, one person can take the stairs and escape and one person has to wait for rescue. And for the foreseeable future, unless there comes a day that prosthetics and medicine become so advanced there are no longer any negative aspects of disability (pain, illness, mobility, mental state), this will be the case.

And instead of trying to burst into the paraplegic support group and whine at them and throw a fit that they aren't talking about ME, I use my privilege to advocate for more accessibility in my town and at my college campus. Not that they aren't able to, but being able to mask my disability has put me in sort of a medium between abled people and the disabled community. I've been able to help so I do.

I am physically disabled, so I consider myself part of the cripplepunk community. I can do this because people look at me and label me as a cripple. People don't look at a mentally ill/neurodivergent person and do that. There are other descriptors used for neurodivergents if you would like to reclaim one of them.

Also, I consider myself neurodivergent as well. Some of you don't consider that people can be physically disabled AND neurodivergent. The barriers I faced with my neurodivergence and the barriers I faced with my physical disability are worlds apart. Both are challenging, but my physical disability has been harder. Does that mean I should ignore my neurodivergence? Does that mean neurodivergents should no longer be supported? Of course not! But in many cases, especially in modern times, mental health has made a ton of progress but it's left us physically disabled peeps behind. So please stop talking over physically disabled and chronically ill people and derailing the little support we get for yourselves. You aren't a cripple and you don't need to be one to be a part of the larger disabled community. You don't need to be a cripple to get support. In our society it's the opposite. We get left behind, ignored, our lives ripped from us. And yea, neurodivergents have this happen to them too but please understand that our pain has continued while neurodivergence is becoming more accepted.

I was able to get on meds so easily. I was screened for depression at my school. There were problems with this of course but they actually tried to seek out depressed kids and help them (even if it caused issues). Yes it costs money. Yes it may be harder outside of the states (or easier idk). But the same shit happens to us cripples as well and our mobility devices cost THOUSANDS out of pocket while meds cost hundreds at the most. My psychiatrist gave me a Zoloft prescription my first appointment and my rheumatologist laughed at me for wanting a walker.

We are tired and we are mad. We have a right to be angry at the mistreatment we've suffered. It's incredibly insulting to dismiss that pain. It's what our doctors do to us, our parents, our friends, our communities. Stop tearing us down to push yourselves further forward. If you truly want to get rid of any division in our community, help bring us up to your level instead of throwing a tantrum about the meanie cripples not letting you take our word that doesn't even fit you. It's insulting to want a word so bad that would never be thrown at you in the first place. It's like a cis binary queer person crying that they can't use the word tranny for themselves.

Please try to understand our pain and educate yourselves about history and experiences outside of your own diagnosis. Don't assume we have it easier because you see us. Most people don't.

#fibromyalgia #chronic disability #chronic pain #spoonie #cripplepunk #any other physically disabled people feel free to chime in #abled people dont clown on this post #honestly there was such a stark difference in how i was treated when i disclosed my adhd/anxiety/depression/DID vs #when i started using a wheelchair #people reacted badly to both sides but reacted so much worse to the wheelchair

[desi-daydream]

I tried everything (february edition)

I bought bedsheets with snowflakes on them for the the winter I put pretty photos of nature up on the walls in my room I bought night cream I peeled pomegranates and ate them I cut sugar out of my coffee I started stretching I booked a trip I listened to Lighters by Eminem when I was alone at the airport I made chai I bought a floral nightie bc I’ve wanted one for a while now I ate a shawarma wrap with potatoes in it i watched Anne with an e again I drank juice boxes I bought construction paper and glue I joined a dating app again to try to find him I stopped taking zoloft and started prozac I started writing my book I started taking vitamins I flew on an airplane by myself for the first time I saw my city from 30000 feet in the air at nighttime I made coffee in a mug with a heart on it I bought some comfy crew necks I chopped my hair back in august I made chai I got valentines nails I stopped taking prozac I remicrowaved my mug of coffee again I wore a pink wool sweater with red hearts on it that my sister got for me I got 12 hours of sleep I watched lifetime movies I ate a fried egg on bread with avocado I got my eyebrows threaded I walked 8000+ steps a day in a city I don’t live in I went to a book shop I went to a coffee shop with my sister I bought a crystal opalite heart that was supposed to alleviate symptoms of depression and anxiety I listened to taylor swift I cut my trip short and came home early I made myself pancakes and I still want to die

-signed a mentally ill girl who is truly tired of trying to get better

February 21 2024

#nostalgia #aesthetic #desi girl #mental health #anne with an e #desi academia #mental heath support #mentalheathawareness #mentally exhausted #actually mentally ill #mental illness #bpd problems #prozac nation #zoloft #medication #20 something #mid 20s #life in your 20s #quarter life crisis #depressing quotes #depressing shit #ocd #actually ocd #mental heath issues #positive mental attitude #coffee academia #coffee aesthetic #coffee and writing #coffee shop #desi aesthetic

[enbyleighlines]

Damn I had a long, rough weekend.

(exasperated ramblings under the cut)

Actually, it started before the weekend.

I recently switched insurances because I now make too much for medicaid, a process that took several months because why not?

But finally I had insurance and I could go see my doctor, yay me!

They upped my dosage of zoloft, because I’ve been super irritable lately and I think it’s mostly burnout from work, but it had been a long time since my dosage had been adjusted, so I thought it probably wouldn’t hurt.

I start taking a higher dosage, work still sucks, but I feel a bit better, so yay.

Then a few days later, I get a letter from my insurance saying that they will not pay for my zoloft, because it’s not on their list, and I will have to find a different anti-anxiety medication.

My doctors receive a similar letter and message me, asking me to schedule a time for another apt so that we can work on that.

Fuck that, I do not want to go through the emotional turmoil of trying a different anti-anxiety med. It took a long time for me to find one that works for me, and I don’t want to go thru that process again, esp with all the stressors currently in my life.

So I tell them, pls just let me stay on this for now, I will pay out of pocket, I don’t have the time or energy for this at this moment.

Flash forward, and it’s time for me to get a refill of zoloft. I’ve already been paying for it out of pocket for those months I didn’t have health insurance, so I knew it was gonna be costly, but I think it’s worth it. I ask my doctors for a refill, as per usual.

That was on Thursday.

Unfortunately, due to my adhd brain, I forget to go grab my prescription from the pharmacy. But that’s okay. I can go one day without zoloft. I’ve done it before.

But by the end of Friday, I knew I needed to pick up my prescription. I don’t want to go two days without zoloft, or else I start to feel funky: brain zaps, headache, nausea, etc. And of course there’s the anxiety and depression coming back, stronger than ever.

So I remember to go to the pharmacy on Friday afternoon, after work.

Except… they don’t have my prescription.

I call the on-call doctor, and ask them what happened to my zoloft.

They say they sent it to hannahfords.

I’m at cvs.

I haven’t used the pharmacy at hannahfords in the past 4 years, because I moved, and now cvs is closer.

Weird, but fine.

I could go to hannahfords, but I would have to take the bus, and it’s raining super hard, and I don’t want to walk from the bus stop to hannahfords in the pouring rain.

I ask cvs if they can transfer my prescription. They say sure but not right now. We can do it tomorrow.

Alright, well that’s fine. I can pick up my meds in the morning, and then I will still have only skipped one day. No biggie. Feeling relieved, I head on home.

The next morning, I return to cvs.

They say it’s too early, they just opened. They can transfer my prescription later in the day. They will call me when it’s done.

Alright. So it looks like I might be skipping another day of my meds. It sucks, but okay.

The hours go by. I don’t get a call. I focus on drawing and watching anime, and I try not to think about it.

The evening finally comes. My head is starting to hurt a little bit.

I get a call.

Good news: cvs successfully transferred the prescription.

Bad news: they are out of stock of my medication and will need to have it shipped in. It may take a couple of days.

I can’t wait two more days.

I have a panic attack.

I calm down. I tell myself I can go to cvs tomorrow and see if they can help. Maybe they have some zoloft in the back? Idk, I just need enough to tide me over until the shipment, and I’m desperate.

I go to cvs. I tell them my predicament. They are sympathetic but their hands are tied. They have no zoloft. They tell me to maybe check another pharmacy. Except it’s Sunday, so the closest pharmacy that’s actually open is…

Hannahfords.

Well, okay. It’s a beautiful day, no rain, so I don’t mind taking the trip.

I get to hannahfords. I say hey can you please transfer my prescription back here so I can have my medicine.

They say, sorry. They’re out of stock, too.

They’re also all out of zoloft???

Except, no. The woman at the desk explains they have plenty of the 100mg tablets in stock.

I say great, I take 2 of those a day, per my doctor’s instructions.

But that’s not what is on my prescription this time.

The prescription my doctor wrote says to take 1 200mg tablet a day. And yes, that amounts to the same, the woman explains, but because your prescription asks for the 200mg tablets, I can’t give you the 100mg ones.

I can order the 200mg tablets for you, she tells me. It will take a couple of days.

Now that’s just infuriating.

I ask her, please, is there any way I can get my zoloft sooner?

She tells me I can call the on-call doctor and have them change the prescription from 1 200mg tablet a day to 2 100mg tablets a day.

So I do.

And finally, finally, on 2pm on Sunday afternoon, I get my medication.

God fucking dammit.

Why was all of that so complicated???

#vent post #what a headache #i’m glad it’s over #but my god that was a challenge

[ibroughtyoumybullets]

#harmreductionclub have any of you taken psilocybin while on antidepressants (or more specifically Zoloft + Wellbutrin) my friend wants to trip for their birthday and I’m trying to do my research especially in regards to dosing.

General consensus seems to be that Zoloft dulls trips because it is an SSRI and blocks psilocybin in the brain. Wellbutrin however seems to either not change the trip OR increase the intensity. So I’m not sure how to balance dosing between the two.

[thepeachyouhadtopick]

ANYTHING BUT ORDINARY | Chapter Eighteen

It's Rolling Stone cover shoot day, and not everything goes to plan for Johnny and Ell.

Thanks for your patience for the new chapter! Hope you enjoy - I've rewritten it a few times and I'm still not entirely happy with it but there are some BIG plot points and I can't wait to show you where I'm taking things. It's quite a long chapter too - I was going to split it in two but I just think it flows better as one.

TW for mention of self harm, physical and emotional abuse.

Taglist: @lizey-thornberry @babybammargera @zolofts (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

“Hello, I’m Johnny Knoxville, I’m about to be pelted by three shooters with paintball guns for a Rolling Stone cover shoot….Fuck.” The show had become far more popular than the team had ever imagined it would. The demand for Jackass was so high they couldn’t shoot fast enough; their trip to London was still a week away and MTV already wanted to bring the release of the second series forward to February. In the midst of it all, Rolling Stone Magazine had been in touch with an offer of a cover story and an in-depth interview with the gang. Arriving in Pennsylvania a few days prior, everyone had been excited to film on Bam, Ryan, Dico and Raab’s home turf. Most of the team were housed up at another motel, with the West Chester boys back at their respective homes, meaning that it had been a little quieter around the motel this time. However, it hadn’t made things all that much easier for Ell and Johnny to see each other, still sneaking around where they could. Aside from sitting next to each other in the van to West Chester and holding hands under a blanket again, they hadn’t been able to be alone for days now, save for when Ell had had enough of waiting and yanked him into the women’s bathroom at a diner for a minute just so she could kiss him.

Continue reading

#pls don't ask me why im posting this at 5:55am uk time i only just got home #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville / original female character #johnny knoxville x ofc #johnny knoxville fluff #johnny knoxville angst #mtv jackass #jackass #steve-o #bam margera #ryan dunn

[everythingholy]

( krysten ritter. cis woman. she/her. ) ⸺ Ꮺ ⋆ greetings, buffalos ! walking around campus, sporting her MISMATCHED ARGYLE SOCKS we’ve spotted ABILENE CRICKET, a FORTY-SIX year old who contributes to our thriving community as a HEAD GUARD. according to our intel, they’ve been around the sanctuary for ELEVEN YEARS and what we know about her, aside from the fact that they do agree with the decision to close the gates, is that she presses wildflowers between old textbooks and frames them to trade ; during her blunder years, she was big into the nu-metal scene. she’d give anything to find korn’s life is peachy ; her hearing seems to diminish more and more each passing month. one day, this facade will get her or somebody else killed–but she’d deny this. she’ll defend this place until her dying breath. doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what they give to our community.

TW: weapons, alcohol use, ptsd

abilene, abilene, prettiest town i’ve ever seen. women there don’t treat you mean in abilene, my abilene was what was playing on the radio just moments after she was born. it was one of the first moments of peace her parents felt in years. as the oldest of her four siblings, she was brought into the world when there was still a little naivety left in their eyes. a naivety that didn’t last long. see, abilene grew up an army brat. her father moved around, city to city, banking on having a boy that could follow in his footsteps–but that day never came. all of that added responsibility of having child after child was discarded onto her shoulders. she had been cooking, cleaning, and walking her siblings to school before she escaped the single digits. but, on the rare occasion her father remembered to treat her like his child and not his helpmate, they went hunting. between being a student herself (boasting a 4.2 gpa) and a third parent to her three sisters, these trips would be the only thing she felt she could look forward to. it was on one of these trips that her dad suggested she join the military herself. it was almost out of nowhere—she had expected him to say something more akin to ‘homemaker, teacher, baker’ but he had other plans. he lamented about his father and his father before him being disappointed, ashamed even, of their military history ending with him. she saw tears in his eyes for the first time. instantly, her plans to apply to college evaporated into thin air. abilene’s life shifted faster than she could ever begin to fathom. she would go on to join the army and her life would never be the same.

the military put her through hell, but nobody was better at taking shit than she was. this attitude continued as she trained and served through the end of the 90s and the early 2000s, even seeing combat in iraq as a k9 handler–which she lovingly referred to as a bomb squad on four legs. the things she saw in that country made her reconsider everything her father told her. she had finally been convinced that what she was experiencing was not a sign of virtue, nor was it a legacy that should ever be continued. the more tragedy she saw, the angrier she felt. it jaded her, this dark side of humanity that she’d only see more of in the years to come. the blood and gore she saw daily was something the men in her family never went into detail about. they never mentioned the amount of lives lost, or what it could do to a person. it began to interrupt her sleep. her eating habits. the way she spoke and how she went about her day. sometimes, she’d just find herself crying, breaking down, screaming bloody murder. apropos of absolutely nothing. nobody, especially the men she worked with, seemed to care about how isolating it all was. it reached a point where she couldn’t get out of her bed. this, eventually, left her with an other than honorable discharge; a fact that would devastate her parents once she came back home with no prospects and a prescription for zoloft. her mother, who seemed to rarely speak more than a few words to her, told her that she came back even more useless than when she left. she told her that a man would never want her now, not in the state she’s in. her father, on the other hand, didn’t know what to say. every conversation began to feel stale and awkward, like she was living with a stranger. despite the vitriol she got from her parents on a day to day basis, she spent most of her time going between waitressing gigs, drinking at the local bar with her coworkers, and taking her own damn self hunting.

in 2011, she had saved up enough money for an apartment of her own. finally, abilene would have that independence she was convinced was out of reach for her. this would last her a good seven months, right up until the shit hit the fan. there was death in numbers she hadn’t seen since iraq but this time, she didn’t have a team with her. her parents were unreachable, her siblings scattered to the four winds long ago, and again–she was alone. that’s when she decided to make her way to the rockies. for a year, without a single person by her side for more than a week, she survived in the colorado mountains with her wits and everything she could find along the way. this isn’t to say it wasn’t difficult, no, it was the hardest thing she had done in her life. being truly and completely alone, pulling triggers, surviving on only what the world could provide her with. it took her a year to come down from her post in the mountains, hobbling down tired and cold, trying to find the closest sign of life. eventually, she was found by one of the original members of the sanctuary and taken under their wing. she observed a sense of community she had never had a chance to experience before. as time passed and she assimilated into the culture of the camp, she was imbued with another reason to keep fighting. her military background made her a perfect candidate for the watchtower team, and this tenacity that she carried for ensuring the safety of everybody in her new home was what led her to rise through the ranks and become the head guard. besides, they didn’t need to know about her discharge or her predisposition towards blowing up in fear or anger. she’s trusted, she’s esteemed–she feels powerful. not because she has her boot atop the throats of those less fortunate, but because she gets to do the saving; and nothing will ever come close to that feeling.

DETAILS AND HEADCANONS

through all three decades of her experience using firearms regularly she seldom used ear protection. usually, it was something her father left behind on their hunting trips, and the use of ear protection wasn’t mandated in the army at that point. it’s not an easy thing to find in the apocalypse either. so, as time passed, she noticed some things getting harder to hear. she’d strain to listen during quiet conversations, certain noises from her day-to-day life had completely faded into distant memory. she tries to ignore it. she focuses on her duties, her crafts, her long-since abandoned passion for music–anything but her hearing and what it might mean for the future of her position. what is she to the people around her if not a leader?

her parents are both from the hollers of appalachia, but she considers herself to be from all over. her dad had to move posts every three years, so she’s moved from virginia, to hawaii, to texas and everywhere in between. basically, the chances of your muse knowing abilene from high school are low … but never zero.

she is kind of really piss poor at making friends. like, it was never a priority for her when she was younger because she’d always end up moving. the closest friends she had were the people she met in the army. she’s really good at making acquaintances, but she needs a little push before she can really start to break down her walls and trust you. i’m sure though, since she’s been here for like 11 years, she has some friends. even with the people she’s close to, she’s rather soft-spoken. more of a listener, always ready to help with advice or a shoulder to cry on, and loyal to a fault.

abilene used to be really into making music. she was a marching band kid, a percussionist. on her sixteenth birthday, she bought herself a guitar. she was pretty good too. she’d play all of her favorite korn songs. she often thought about going to school for music before her father convinced her to join the army.

secretly she’s very crafty. sometimes she embroiders, sometimes she’ll knit, but she loves pressing and framing flowers. her quarters are covered in them. she trades the extras she makes for other art, snacks, and liquor.

#( * ; ABILENE / INTRO ! #survivors.intro #tw weapons #tw alcohol use #tw ptsd #one down one to go #bear w me gang

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Zoloft Day 67

My whole body hurts so much.

Other than my needle phobia, up until I started taking sertraline I was under the impression that I had a high tolerance to pain. Turns out it’s quite the opposite. Apparently, my anxiety has kept all my muscles permanently clenched, causing me chronic pain that I wasn’t aware of until a few days ago when the 50mg dose stopped working entirely.

I have since increased my dose to 75mg under the recommendation of a friend (I have no access to a psychiatrist at the moment, have been buying them OTC since that is an option in Mexico) and it has helped with the deppression, though it didn’t entirely get rid of the intrusive thoughts. I was told to try this dose for 4 to 6 weeks to see if there’s any improvement, and it feels like there has been.

However, the pain remains. It has been intense and increasing for who knows how many years, and it creeped on me so slowly that I never realised that was what was going on. That’s why weed felt so good until I started taking the pills: it not only gets rid of the anxiety, it’s also a muscle relaxant. That is why swimming is the only sport I tolerate: the water makes me weightless and forces me to relax my whole body. And that is why I never have the energy to do anything, and why my body keeps demanding more food than it’s healthy, and why when I’m off meds I have trouble breathing and can only lay in bed in tears.

I am in so much pain all of the time.

I only had a two months trial of what it feels like to not be constantly in pain. It felt so nice. I was active and dieting and going out to have fun and playing with my cat all the time.

Today I can barely move.

Most pain medication is counterindicated for patients taking sertraline. Just take it I guess, says medical literature.

It feels like I’m getting better with the new dose. Gradually. Very, very gradually.

Ill keep trying for a while before I turn up the dose again. If that doesn’t work, we’re back to weed. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I cannot keep living like this.

#tripping on zoloft #zoloft #sertraline #chronic fatigue #chronic pain

[freesia-writes]

10 and 21 for the soft asks!

Hi lovely!

10. what’s something you’re excited for?

The first thing that popped into my mind was going to heaven, LOL. In the slightly more short-term range… Dang, this was an interesting day to ask this question. My psychiatrist is switching me over from Zoloft to BuSpar, and it has only been three days with the reduced dosage of Zoloft as we phase it out, but I feel like I’m in a completely depressive episode. So the various camping trips and things that we have coming up all just sound like burdens right now! 😬 I share this not to be a killjoy, but to be honest and to encourage others to do the same when they aren’t having the best day or week or month or even your year! *cue Friends theme song*

21. if you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

This is such a good question. Hmm. Since I’m workin through this in therapy right now, if I went back to my 7-8year old self, I’d probably tell her that she really is doing the best she can, and she is absolutely enough, worthy, and loved. 🥲

Congrats on getting my most depressing ask yet! 😉 here is a medal! 🏅🤣😘

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

vampy's looking real pissed at u rn

me: I’m going to Cancun!

vampy:

me:

vampy: I know you’re fucking lying right now.

me: It’s an all expense paid trip, I can’t necessarily turn it down—

vampy: I KNOW YOURE FUCKING LYING RIGHT NOW.

me: I JUST WANT A NICE VACATION

vampy: WHY DONT YOU GO SOME PLACE THAT DOESNT HOLD SOME OF MY DEEPEST DARKEST MEMORIES THEN????

me: WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE THOSE MEMORIES IN THE FIRST PLACE??

vampy: Don’t. I was in a rEALLY BAD PLACE OKAY

me: When normal people are in a “really bad place,” they take Zoloft. They don’t go on a blood bender and rampage a beach.

vampy: IM NOT NORMAL AND THATS NOT MY FAULT

[thesituation]

> call pharmacy to request zoloft refill

> told it will be ready today

> go to pharmacy to pick it up. cant get it

> am told my doctor denied the refill

> call doctor

> “we didn’t deny it, the pharmacy needs updated insurance info”

> why didn’t they tell me that when i was there.

> call pharmacy

> “hi yeah your insurance expired we need a new one or you can pay $25 to just get your meds today”

> why the fuck didn’t they tell me that when i was THERE

> have to make second trip of the day to the pharmacy

#i hope we all die #.txt

[child-of-the-new-contagion]

Ecto-Containment System

.,.,.I wanted a place where I wasn't limiting myself by fear of certain potential readers. It's funny, cause they wouldn't probably read anyway, but the slight chance was inhibiting expression. My wife E is one of the feared potential readers, and I've given out links at times to people too close to me in real life, and that can cause headaches. I could of course just not post, but there's the thing about being potentially readable, even if it's a self-flattering fairy-tale, or even the thing about being theoretically readable far in the future by alien surveyors of the Sol information microcube archived before civilization got turned into a dead two-dimensional painting by hyper-dimensional travelers cleaning the Dark Forest of potential rivals like some roided-up sinophobic new american century project.

So I'm posting in a new way, just writing about things straight-forwardly, instead of coding and metaphors, although I'm trying to do this thing where I have my cake and eat it too, take trips on dxm yet have the happy marriage, be in a relationship but also be able to write, indulge in cryptic poetics and also just convey information, for the edification of myself, mostly, cause there's this sordid compulsion in the social media era, of exhibitionism, even if it's for no one.

So yeah, I'm being a goody good boy for the most part, and a good husband [pretty good at any rate], and faithful, but I also believe in drugs. Certain ones, a sophist's discernment, doctoring myself. I can never totally turn my back on the dextromethorphan sacrament, I'm the prodigal son, the lapsed catholic reclaiming my birthrite.

I think vaping is the new MSG. They don't want it to be OK. They don't want you to enjoy it. They. Them. You know.

It's hard to quit because the negative consequences are so few. Except the artificial expense. The Sin Tax, the mafia government's cut, whatever. Also, there's something creepy about turning myself into a glitchy machine whose functionality is dependent on the short nicotine timer. I don't like it when I'm impatiently pecking at the button with increasing, ever-more-futile efforts like a trauma victim in the hospital bed being weened off the morphine IV by the nurses.

And there's something troubling about the steep curve of diminishing returns, forcing me to take frequent tolerance breaks, like I fail to do anymore with caffeine. It's such a silly game. I'm wired up with what sometimes seems too many chemically dependent circuits, but then, it's all a chemical circuit in'it, some voice deep inside sooths me into believing. No, that's not all there is, there's magikscum of dissociative drugs, and there's the people I love, organic realness, and there's a society I don't know whether to be a martyr defending or shrug off, or just admit I don't know nothin about nothin, I'm just a confused old man in the woods.

There's the thing about never being very precocious, so middle age is gonna hit me late like most things, maybe I'm not even there yet, but oh boy, what a crash it'll be. If I can survive beyond 47, the most depressing age according to data, then maybe I'll get to the real don't give a fuck golden years and enjoy that, if there's anything left in the world to enjoy.

I can take tolerance breaks though, I can go on nic gum, boring responsible gum, and I can even get off that too and get nic free, and I can even get off zoloft, until I start feeling sadness too scary to bear, and run back to it. I can get off these things for a little while. I can get off booze almost all the time, and that is one of the really evil ones, so that's good. I can keep my fentanyl in a bank vault, open it telepathically with the auto-destruct command when needed, if last-ditch geo-engineering fails to fix the planet, and instead turns everything to ice, with the remnants of humanity left to fight it out on a never-stopping train circumnavigating the frigid world and serving as an emblem of wealth inequality.

One part of the movie Children of Men that I think of more and more, that I never gave its due, is the premise of the government-issued suicide pills that are advertised on TV, with the cheery slogan: "You choose when." And real life is rhyming with that close to home with all the hoopla about the Medical Assistance in Dying program in Canada, the assisted-suicide fast-track. I have complicated feelings about that.

I wonder if I can captive-audience someone through the thin gruel of emotional blackmail into reading my selfish words through laundering in what is professedly a letter to a friend, but is really just a blog entry, another wordwank. It might almost work, it's hard to quit something that almost works because it's so close, it might as well be working, burning the credits of long expired favours, like bunk acid.

Mostly I can keep vaping and being on SSRIs and trazodone the tranq because maybe I just breezed through the midlife crisis without even noticing, or maybe it's still waiting for me, but regardless, I can enjoy the benefit, having lived this long, of not feeling the dumb compulsion to be pure somehow, that's an idealism I can happily leave behind.

I'll also post the only music I can manage over the long lame lately, which is facile and clumsy improvisations. But there was something worth a novel or a series in the title: The Art of the Possible. Which is what they say politics is, but I'm trying to stay away from politics on this blog. But there's rich thematic resonance from the epigram that extends to many things. What I meant when I came up with it while playing stemmed from the obsessive thought, what can I possibly come up with, in tense real-time, with these hands of mine that are lagging so far behind my rushing thoughts? The limitations of technique and imagination. What sort of compromise do I have to make with reality, to serve others, like the mockingly theoretical readership, listenership, or public?

#ghostbusters #trap #ecto #dark forest #liu cixin #2d #cold war #robotripping #dextromethorphan #marriage #social media #vaping #cost of living #nicotine #addiction #sertaline #mid-life crisis #suicide #snowpiercer #children of men #MAID #piano #keyboard #nord stage 2 #improvization

[not-annies-blog]

Im sorry but you won't od with zoloft- it doesn't matter if you mix it with hard alcohol. If you try to ky with them the one thing you will get is an awkward trip to the er to pump your stomach and a few days I the psych ward

Damn