Self Indulgent Little Girl

I had a dream about Aging Rocker Man last night. We were a couple, and we were wandering around London. I felt quite affectionate towards him in this dream. It was weird seeing him at work this morning. Lately I’ve been having lots of dreams about being romantically involved with people other than my boyfriend. I’ve even had erotic dreams about other women, which is bizarre, and somewhat disturbing. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.

It seems after the high anxiety of the last few months I’ve now slumped back into a mild depression. I’m finding it harder to get myself to react, or feel anything other than irritable and very dismayed with the people around me. I think I prefer this to anxiety, but it’s not exactly an ideal situation. I want to feel ALIVE. Whatever that means. I can’t remember anymore.

I’ve been on antidepressant since 2002. I started on citalopram, which was wonderful. I felt really good on that. Too good in fact. I felt euphoric. Once the effects of those wore off, nothing else ever came close to making me feel that good. Now I wish I’d never started on medication. I should have just stuck with therapy, I would certainly be skinnier now if I’d done that, and perhaps I’d be able to engage with life a little more. These days I experience things sort of half-heartedly, and my memory is terrible, so I forget most of the things I’ve done, and most of the books I’ve read. My memory is shocking. Sometimes I can’t remember words, or when someone asks me what I did last weekend I have to think for about 10 minutes to recall.

In the past I was diagnosed as Dysthymic, which is a chronic, less severe form of depression. So it means I can function almost like a normal person, but I’m dogged by a constant low mood and lack of pleasure. There’s been something wrong with me since I was 16. And the years before that were setting the scene, mixing together just the right ingredients to make me crazy.

Apologies for the sheer self indulgent self pity of this.