I seem to remember that it made sense to go off the Citalopram because I was down to four pills or so and it’s kind of a nuisance to call the doctor and then go pick up the rx and get it filled every not-even-two-months, I mean if I’m supposed to keep taking them then why do I have to do this so often, and anyway I was really busy and also generally happy with life i.e. not depressed, so I didn’t need depression meds, right? And then everything kind of spun out of control and I found myself in that state I get in, where my brain is like a jar of angry bees and I can’t figure out what to do first so I just sit around helplessly and hate myself for not doing anything. And I used up all my social spoons (and may have gone into spoon-debt, actually) and spent last weekend in bed with a migraine that totally belied all of my “they’re not as bad lately!” and when I crawled blearily out of that hole last Monday, I finally made the connection between stopping the meds and… yeah. So that happened.
It still took me until Friday (yesterday? Guess so) to refill the prescription, so I’m on my way back. This past week was still busy and full, and this weekend I have been mostly an inert mass, but I’m working on it. And by “it” I mean… uh. Doing things. Today I did one thing. Tomorrow maybe I’ll do two!
Song du jour of the day: In a Week, by Hozier. And Karen Cowley.