Just over a week ago I was planning the playlist for my own funeral. Now... I feel great. Last Wednesday things reached an ugly, despairing critical mass where I was just sitting downstairs on my own with my face covered in snot, gasping and crying and wishing I was dead, listening to the same two morbid tunes over and over again, reconciled to the fact that my life was over, just twitching and spasming in the last agonal throes of grief for it. Then in the morning I felt okay. I went off to see my psychiatrist who suggested I stay on the Quetiapine and throw some Venlafaxine into the mix as well, which I did. And I've felt fine ever since - not just fine, to be honest, but GOOD. It has to be the Quetiapine, the Venlafaxine hasn't really had time to do anything therapeutic yet. Much as I'd love to rail against the corrupt and evil pharmaceutical industry, I can't really do so with a clear conscience. I know that the medication I'm taking could quite possibly shorten my life, bring on diabetes, tardive dyskinesia and a whole host of other unpleasantnesses but I have to say I find the trade-off acceptable. I've spent a week where I've not been utterly at the mercy of my capricious and wayward moods and it's been fantastic. My family have started to relax - there's even been some laughter in the house over the last few days. Seven straight days of stability has made me realise how UNSTABLE I've been for such a long time. Seven days which are all broadly similar - what a fantastic oddity. I even rang my boss yesterday and told her I'd be back to work on Tuesday. No work tomorrow for most of us anyway, due to the marriage of two parasitic nobodies, no work on Monday due to the May Bank Holiday, just a long weekend with my wife and the kids and the peace and contentment that heavy duty psychotropic medication has brought us...
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