Wanderlust

I'm not going to lie, I've been having a difficult time. It's not too unexpected, but still I can't help but be disappointed. I was backsliding before the RTMS trial started, but for some reason I was hoping the sheer fact of being off work on sick leave again would help me stabilize back to the point I was at when I first left the hospital, where I was making it through the days without sitting on the pavement, or lying on the floor for half an hour staring at the ceiling. It's the nature of the beast, I guess.

I want this blog to be a happy, funny place; I want it to reflect that humour and intellectualization are my main defense mechanisms, but I also want a place where I can re-frame my experiences as something lighter, funnier, more bearable. I can always use the practice. I guess I've had a lot of it, but might still have a lot left to go.

Ever since the increased dose of Remeron (mirtazapine), I've had this horrible side effect; my mornings are as difficult as usual, and I don't feel hungry or like eating throughout the bulk of the day. I spend most of my energy trying to make myself eat or look decent...although I guess it's worth noting I've been wearing the same pants since Sunday now. Oh well, you can't win them all. Anyway, in the evenings I eat like crazy, sweet foods, things that I normally don't even crave. It's not like I'm hungry, it's more like my body thinks it's not full, and will never be full again. This had never happened to me before, and I don't know how to deal with it. It brings up a lot of questions about self-worth, about quality of life, about why I do these things that don't help me cope but, ultimately, are very self-destructive. I wonder if this is a new way that drive to tear myself apart, to destroy myself, to end my life, is trying to express itself. It's just so...intolerable. I hate what it does to my body, to my mood, to the way it makes me feel. I want to maximize my chances for remission, my chance at health, at getting out of this hole I've found myself in and making that last as long as possible. But I see myself doing this thing that I don't understand, and I'm frightened about what that means, what it will do to my future.

Ugh.

Today, I finished treatment and had lots of time to spare. I went wandering. I wandered back to the metro station. I wandered to the end of the green line. I explored an area I'd never been to before, found a Loblaws, went inside, and looked at things. I realized that I wasn't wandering or looking to try and smother some other feeling, or to try and distract myself from crippling despair. I felt...curious. I just wanted to wander around and see things I haven't seen before. The grass looked greener, and the sun felt brighter. Maybe grass is always this green, and I haven't noticed before, or don't remember.

Maybe it will be spring after all.