The Alternative of Reality

I met with RC Cola the Science Girl and her gaggle of friends that I am constantly in awe of at Johns Stevens for a drink last night after the Bean had gone to bed. I was ridiculously excited to see them, and to have the energy to actually GO. OUT I put on my fat squeezing undergarments which claim to make you appear to lose 10 lbs in 10 seconds, and busted out the good lipstick.

The gang included a Special Guest - our dear girl Ann who left us all in her wake for teaching students in another state the many wonders of cadavers, Mr. MM whom is a staple of sanity, a girl named Krissy ("like Three's Company" she said), Laurel the Starbuck look-a-like, Mysterious D (who doesn't seem to really dig me all that much) and some dude named Keith who has the hots for RC, but was a nice dude nonetheless.

I don't know if it was the surprise attendance of the Cadaver Expert Ann or not, but it felt amazingly good to be with a group of people that I truly like, and I realized, I had never slept with. Drama-Free! This outing was especially nice in the wake of the crazy ride I experienced with my girlfriend's visit to Baltimore last week to introduce her Irish Fiancé Who Thinks I Am Not Pretty.

I am beginning to notice a little bit of a pattern though - the extreme highs and lows that come with weaning off the most ridiculous anti-depressant drug in existence: Effexor.

I was prescribed the crazy drug when I was battling a pretty bad spell of post-partum depression, and I know that it helped me to get through a rather dark emotional time so that I could focus on being there for my little Bean Footage. But I was on it for 15 months, which in hindsight seems a little long considering that my OB prescribed it over the phone, without ever discussing other treatment options or the amount of time to keep it in my daily use. I just kept taking it because if I missed even a single dose, my body would go through a series of what I can only describe as electric shocks, and at times, I felt that I was literally going to fall right through the floor - all this from missing ONE dose. I kept taking it because I was too scared to face the withdrawal.

In February, my prescription ran out, so I really had no other choice but to face the challenge.

Going off of Effexor the same week as starting my new publishing job has left me rather shell-shocked, kind of numb mostly and at times in a very bitter state of mind - a shocking state of bitterness actually, like a bad taste in my mouth.

I realize that my anxiety/anger/elation/manic/irritation are all part of the detoxifying rollercoaster. Keeping this knowledge close, though, hasn't made things all that much easier to muddle through. But last night, the fog lifted some. I found myself relaxing, enjoying, and being myself - I was enjoying my own company as well as that of the group. It felt good to reunite with all parties to have a few drinks and to still get home to Handsome by 10:30.

However, my poor RC Cola girl thought I was acting a little "cranky" and was worried that I was annoyed with her or something.

CHRIST ALMIGHTY as my father would say.

What in the WORLD is going ON with me? Did the Effexor really fuck with my sense of reality so much that I don't even have a clue what I am putting out there?

I think that I am going to mark my calendar for this Friday to be The Day This Fucking Effexor Drama Stops. I will let you know how the agenda goes.