A quick recap of some unhappy circumstances from last year.
My grandfather passed away in August 2015. At that point, I had been on anti-depressant medication for over 5 years.
I wanted to write some sort of tribute to him. Still do. I couldn’t seem to find the words, and I felt pretty bad about it. In hindsight, I think it was because it can be difficult to think about ways to pay tribute to someone who said more with action and work than language.
Anyway, I struggled with all my writing back then, and I felt trapped. I decided to try a few days without my anti-depressants and see what happened. Turns out things worked pretty well. I wrote a novel I like a good a deal and finally managed to publish a long work, that new novel, a few months later.
I also talked to my doctor about the anti-depressants. She told me that if I felt fine it would be okay not to take them, but also that the full effect of leaving the medication might not be felt for some time.
Things definitely swung back toward the end of this summer. Anyone who has read any of my posts over the past few weeks will see some major ups and downs. Swings of the emotions. And I went back to daily cycles where I started out positive, only to gradually lose hope over the course of the day.
My thoughts over the past two weeks, in particular, have been atrociously dark and ruinous. I’m sorry for all the worry.
And on top of all of this, my writing productivity hit the wall. As of now, I’ve only written roughly 120,000 words for the year. In prior years with my anti-depressants, I did double or triple that, at the least.
So, today, I took one of the anti-depressants prescribed to me again. I had a few left over from last year. We will see if this helps. I felt so rotten I was willing to try it.
I’ve sometimes mentioned to people during philosophical discussions I want a diagram for a particular symptom of absolutist thinking.
That is the image on this post. Remember the metaphor, as I should have done with my anti-depressants.
Thanks for reading.