With or without?

I'm currently watching Horizon's Pill Popping episode which I recorded. It's only vaguely interesting and isn't really revealing much that I didn't already know or couldn't have figured out. What's got me sitting up to write this post is my reaction to hearing my least favourite word in the world......Seroxat.

I'm pretty emotional anyway these days, but the very mention of that word leads me towards tears of frustration, anger and sadness.

Seroxat (Paroxetine) was the first anti-depressant I was ever prescribed. I was 18 years and 5 months old and in the first year of university. I had been depressed for sometime, but uni really bought it out in me and I sought help because I was afraid that depression was going to stop me from passing my course. How ironic that seems now.

I had vaguely heard of Seroxat before I started taking it however when my GP explained he'd be putting me on an anti-depressant he told me he was giving me "something you've probably heard of - Prozac". I was a little confused when I picked up the prescription and was faced with a box of Seroxat; despite my limited knowledge on the subject I knew that Prozac (Fluoxetine) and Seroxat were not in the same drug. Nonetheless I started the course and hoped for the best. The first dose made me violently sick. That was probably the best side-effect of the lot. I'm not entirely sure how long I took it for but I recall what it did to me.

I would experience serious withdrawal if I was even a few hours late taking a dose. I became withdrawn socially, my uni work suffered and I lost the part-time job I had as I was struggling to concentrate and couldn't carry out a series of simple tasks.

I have a vivid, but dream-like memory of walking down the long, wide tree-lined road to the university campus. I think I'd just gotten off a bus and was on the phone to my mum. I was feeling spaced out, experiencing "brain zaps" and was verging on hysterical, although held it together whilst on the phone. I got as far as the gates to uni but couldn't face going in and just kept walking. I recall wondering if I was experiencing a panic attack and trying to mentally sober myself up. Then, a moment of clarity through the mist in my brain; a thought that popped up in my head things became clear; If I walk in front of the next bus that passes by, all of this will stop.

Blah blah blah

It's 2am.
At 6pm this afternoon I nearly fell asleep in the car on the way home (I wasn't driving!). I am exhausted. But for some reason I just don't want to go to bed. It's been the same every night this week and a fair few in the preceding weeks. I have no clue why.

At one point in time it might've been as a way of avoiding sex, or rather being seen naked and vulnerable and reminded of how fat and gross I am, or how emotionally useless I am, what a rubbish girlfriend. But that (sex) hasn't really been on the cards much this week & hasn't been an issue, the boy's been tired with 5am starts for work and I generally plan on staying up another hour past his 9pm bed-time just to become that more tired and in the mood for bed. But 10pm suddenly becomes 1am and I'm still downstairs.  So I head up to the bathroom to get set for bed. Then 1am has become 2am and I realise I'm stood in front of the mirror, my face covered in angry red bumps from the picking that I barely realised I was doing. I lose hours in that trance-like state; I lose hours more the following morning recovering from the lack of sleep (I've been off work this week, but the weeks before that I've been rolling up late).

Tonight's not really much different, although I've not done much picking. The boy's gone out to see friends. I skipped this (what a surprise) but for once I had a credible excuse given the rather active day I've had today. But still I don't seem to want to go to bed. I almost feel like I can't be bothered. But where's the sense in that?! I like sleep. Sleep is like the next step from that trance-like state I enter when picking. Or an alternative to the dis-associative haze of alcohol. I don't get bad dreams, in fact I don't get many dreams at all and it's rare I remember them for any longer than a few minutes after waking up. So sleep for me is a pretty safe place. But something is finding me things to do as an alternative to bed. I've watched a few of the TV shows I have downloaded and recorded. I've done some social networking, I've even caught up on the news and the results from the Winter Olympics. And now I'm sat here typing this. (2.17am).

Unlike most of the other crazy things I do or think, I can't seem to come up with any logical or even illogical reason as to why I'm avoiding sleeping. And an answer would be good, I'm expected back at work in a few days time.

Time flies

It has just occurred to me that in 6 months time I will be 26 and officially into my mid to late twenties. I'm feeling pretty cheated. I'm fairly certain that somewhere along the line I was lead to believe that your early twenties were supposed to be the best years of your life. When all the fun, excitement and laughter happened.

I've missed it all. If you click "read more" you can read a less-than-interesting summary of my early twenties that I had to write out in order to recall what had happens to my life! I've made it a smaller font so anyone reading can skip to the end - it's not particularly interesting reading the ramblings of a tired, confused and slightly intoxicated woman facing the prospect of a wasted life!