Gargantuan

Venlafaxine dose: 130mg.

Tired. A good day, a good week, but now nauseous with pain from an injury and acetaminophen don't cut it.

Massive cleanup yesterday. Apartment now looks almost liveable, but is ringed with full garbage bags that will have to be removed. Flies in here with the warmer weather.

The VFG prescribes watching a DVD and stop typing with your hurt arm, for god's sake.

venlafaxine dose: approximately 140mg

Speaking of 'tracks' in the mind is not just a quaint old saying. Ruts would be closer to the truth, deep furrows of habit. I have been attempting to divert some, and it's heavy labour. Actually it feels more like a sheepdog, one of those wonderful border collies, penning up recalcitrant merinos.

I realised last night that I'd dreamed about the same habitual thinking I was trying to avoid while awake. Stupid brain.

Mind of VFG: am not.

Old venlafaxine dose: 150mg.
New venlafaxine dose: 140mg.
10 minutes free weights.

I don't know if I can update everything that happened since my last post, so I'm just going to start in the middle somewhere.

I visited my psychologist and my psychiatrist yesterday, a few hours apart.

It's "Psychfriday"! Happy Psychfriday, the day when anything can be treated! Take a bow, dopaminergics, serotonergics, and noradrenergics everywhere.

The psychologist is a smart, compassionate woman who thinks I'm amusing because I'm 'training' her not to say things I find annoying, like "Did anything stand out to you about today?" at the end of a session. We talked about dichotomies mostly. The difficulties I have doing normal activities like showering and dressing myself paired with the difficulties experienced when I don't complete those tasks daily. Cleaning house vs not cleaning house. Exercising vs not exercising. Going outside vs staying in the hole with the blinds down.

The mind of the Very Fat Guy has no interest in the outside today. Or so he says.

I still don't know why I haven't died. It is as if I am being saved for something. The sense of purpose, oddly, remains, but it is directionless.

If you're wondering about the top of this post, I am trying a slow wean of the short half-life antidepressant Effexor, because I have a suspicion it is having no effect and the adverse effect profile is less than stellar. Adding low-dose exercise at the same time, and we'll see what the day brings.

I'm a registered nurse, by the way. My specialty is critical care nursing of children and babies. Pleased to meet you.

The mind of the Very Fat Guy is given to wonder if the children and babies think they're hallucinating when they wake up from anaesthesia and see him for the first time.

Labels: antidepressant, effexor, exercise, nursing, venlafaxine