1000 Oceans

So here's something odd. I don't really cry much anymore. I used to cry all the time, at the drop of the hat. I was that person who cried at the cheesy Hallmark commercials. And god the sadness. I was miserable all the freakin' time. My ex and I used to fight a lot, and he could send me into the longest crying jags. It's good that I don't do that anymore, don't get me wrong, but there also seems to be something else missing.

There's a degree of passion that just isn't there in my life. Sure, I don't get miserable about things, but I also don't seem to get thrilled either. Yes, I love Jack and Joe, and they both make me incredibly happy, but outside of them there just isn't that much that interests me in my life. A lot of times I can't even think of anything to write about here. I'll have periods where I can write about fairly interesting things every day, then there are times like the past couple of weeks where I just can't seem to get anything out.

It seems a bit like depression, except I'm not sad. I know sad, and this isn't it. I'm sleeping, I'm eating, I'm leaving the house, I just don't have that spark. It could be the meds, but if it is it's highly likely that if I weren't on them I'd be suicidally depressed. I know a lot of people who gripe about how meds kill their personality, and I've experienced that. I just also know without a doubt I'd be dead if I didn't take them. So I deal with those dull times when they come along.

I'm sure I'll hear from some of the psych Nazis who think that medication is wrong, and I should learn how to tough it out a live without it, and I suppose they are entitled to their opinions the way that everyone is entitled to an opinion. They just also happen to be assholes and drive me nuts. If you haven't lived my life and been through the experiences I've been through you can't tell me what choices are right for me.

Of course, this is all more likely attributed to the fact that I'm about to start my period.