I’ve lost count of how many posts I’ve started and then abandoned lately. December was going to be tough anyway, even before the advent (ha not very ha) of clozapine. Adventures and misadventures with clozapine are dominating me so hard right now; I hate it. They’re not the worst side effects I’ve experienced, and they’ll pass; it’s just that one of them happens to trigger stuff for me. Thank fuck shrink one is cool about consulting via email sometimes.
More often than not, I sound like a complete grinch round this time of year, but of course the external bitterness demonstrates internal hurt. Blah blah fucken blah, right…. Clozapine’s little cycles and foibles fuck the whole thing right up the ass this year anyway.
Remember the douchebag neighbour’s homophobic boyfriend? Apparently she dumped him last week, because, “we’re just not compatible.” This is where I make the sarcastic W for whatever sign with my hands.
So Christmas and clozapine have their boot soles aimed at my arse, and no doubt menopause is in the same position. Grief though…. Grief for a long line of my dead and the lion’s share of it for my mother. That particular grief is a fist in my throat at the moment.
I can’t write any more right now, it’s all too jagged and bleak.