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May 11th, 2005

All the Drama In My Head

I wish I could say I've been away because of my wisdom tooth, but that would only be a half-truth. The docs have me on antibiotics (the pain was the result of a bad infection) and I go in on Friday to have all four of the suckers removed.

But my absence can be attributed to other factors, considering I'm not in constant and agonizing pain anymore. I'm depressed. I don't know exactly when it started but this blackness has been growing and threatening to swallow me up for some time now. Worse than that, I'm stressed; not for any real reason in particular - rather, the simplest tasks throw me in a tizzy. Every little thing overwhelms me. Not that many years ago I was cool-headed and laid-back. Now I'm a freakin' basket case, panicking over the slightest events that present themselves. Driving to the post office has become a nerve-wracking ordeal for me.

I know it has something to do with my on going leg problems - as you know, complications stemming from surgery I had almost three years ago (the original surgery was in July of 2002). I'm quite aware of how living near-cripple for this long period, and with no end in sight really, has made me bitter and anxious. I know I need to fight, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to do exactly. I was making a lot of progress after the "clean-up" surgery I had last summer, but the winter threw me for a bad loop; when the cold came in I froze up stiffer than a board and was unable to continue my rigorous physical therapy I was giving myself. The last visit with my doc (in March) did not go well; he says I'm almost as stiff and "frozen" as I was before the surgery and he wanted to see me again in six weeks. He told me to up the weight pressure from the Dynasplint (yes, I still sleep in that thing every night) and he expected me to be more straight when I returned. The progress wasn't good, so I simply didn't go back. I know that's bad, but... I'm tired of bad news; I just don't know if my battered soul can take much more of it.

When you're depressed, which I have been since all of this started, you lose the will to fight. It has hindered my progress with recovery, I know it. I give up when, before, I would've continued to fight. A few weeks ago I made the decision to get some help. We all know therapy didn't do it for me, and I go see the doctor on Thursday to ask him to put me on happy pills; I've finally succumbed to the fact that I'm in so deep I'm going to need some help getting back out.

I'm going to try my hand at Lexapro, which numerous friends and acquaintances have recommended for depression and generalized anxiety-disorder. They claim it has no side effects, and has worked wonderfully for them. I know a good friend who has been taking it a year, and have noticed the positive effect it's had on him.

Once I get my mind straight, I can begin to focus on my leg again. It's nearly impossible to stay trained on such a time-consuming and serious recovery when you're suffering from daily panic attacks and a general feeling of "uck".

I sat down this morning to write a post about flying fingernails, and all of this just poured out of me. It's helped me put things in perspective, though. As always, thank you all for your continued support. Someday I'll have all of this beat.

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