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It's official: I'm a headcase (edited)

[Note: This is an edited version of a friend-locked post. I wanted to make some parts of it public for the benefit of anyone else who may be having similar issues on their quitting smoking journey. Commenting has been turned off.]

I went to the doctor today for a checkup and to talk to him about how generally unwell I've felt since quitting smoking. After five months, I figured I should be doing better and he agreed. He told me what I've already learned from the great and powerful internet — that cigarette smoke contains MAOIs. This is why smokers will tell you cigarettes are relaxing even when medical science was saying they weren't. Nicotine gets all the attention, but it's only part of it. You get a nice shot of calm along with that boost of mental energy when you smoke, which I guess is actually therapeutic to some of us. It's quite interesting how complex cigarette addiction really is.

Anyway... the doctor thinks I'm probably in the category of people who self-medicated with cigarettes. Aside from being addicted to nicotine, my brain was being relieved of some anxiety and depression by smoking. Now it's not. What to do, what to do.

It's not like I'm sitting here staring at the floor in despair. I still laugh and smile and have good days. But every time I think I'm over the hump, there's another one. I'm up and I'm down and my emotions are raw and right on the surface. Decisions are close to impossible. Motivation and confidence are hard to come by. Everyday stuff feels overwhelming much of the time and I'm accomplishing little. I've been having chronic headaches. My back is constantly tense. My stomach is terrible. I've lost weight. I haven't been exercising much. I get incredibly fatigued at random times. About the only time I seem to feel okay (aside from this god damn mother fucking headache) is now — late at night when everything is quiet.

Now I've got a prescription for Wellbutrin that I'm debating about getting filled. Should I just quit being such a cry baby and get a fucking grip? I'm considering holding off another month or so and see if the arrival of spring changes my frame of mind (although the man might leave me by then if I don't stop alternating between snapping at him and crying). Thoughts? Advice? Anyone out there currently taking or ever taken an anti-depressant who wants to share their experience with me?

And just because I've spilled my emotionally unstable guts on the table doesn't mean you have to comment ;) Seriously - no coddling is required. I'm going to be okay. This is just a temporary rough patch and I know I'll get through it. Probably get through it... Hopefully... *gulp*


roxy burglar
Roxy Bisquaint

Roxy Bisquaint...

Is self-indulgent. Over thinks everything. Tweets too much. Looks really good in these jeans. Wants to eat butterscotch. Makes herself laugh. Obsesses about aging. Does some crunches. Lives with two ghosts. Procrastinates daily. Measures once, cuts twice. Hates Foo Fighters. Drinks lots of coffee (keep it coming). Puts spiders outside. Brings balance to the force. Draws a perfect curve. Enjoys dark chocolate. Bangs on the drums. Always gets in the slow line. Orders from a menu. Hopes to be reincarnated. Speaks fluent Sarah Connor. Cooks tasty crack theory. Loves a good storm. Dances like a dork. Picks some locks. Tips well. Refuses to share the popcorn. Dreams about the future. Ignores the clock. Sings off key. Has a superpower. Shoots the paper bad guys. Needs some eyeliner. Goes to bed at dawn. Can't resist good smut. Quotes movie lines. Eats whipped yogurt. Lets the story tell itself. Maintains a rich fantasy life. Knows all the mysteries of the gods and of the universe.

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