Centaur of Death

Still clinging to those fragile teenage ideals, living an occasional sixteen year old life, on the interwebs.

Oh yeah, and I'm a slash addict. Every so often I 12 step my way out, but then come crashing back down again. I've read a lot. A HECK of a lot. I'm not afraid to try out the stuff that initially makes be back away. I'll pretty much read anything, as long as it's justified and realistic to world the author creates. Hence, Wincest, and a delve into Michael/Lincoln (Prison Break).

My Ships, etc

I'm also still getting used to being bisexual. I've always loved yaoi, but from a lesbian perspective. I know that sounds odd, perhaps I'll explain it one day. Anyway, I'm 18 months into a relationship with a boy (a marvellous, wonderful boy!) and still getting used to liking these strange creatures. Still being very teenage (or, I suppose, possibly pre-teen) about it; I suppose I really am discovering boys for the first time... at 22. ;)


Essays on Me #1: Me & Yaoi

Essays on Me #2: Me & Prozac
Apr 17
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Essays on Me #2

Me & Prozac

**Caution** Discussion of depression & self harm, may be triggering

A very good friend of mine is skeptical about the use of drugs for certain mental health conditions, and about the overuse of drugs in healthcare in general. However, she has no doubt that I need Prozac. There seems to be a consensus among the professionals I’ve seen that my brain simply doesn’t work properly; there are chemical imbalances that mean, quite simply, I can’t be happy without intervention from my little green-and-yellow pills.

I’ve been forgetting to take them, and I think I’ve stretched out a months supply for about 8 - 10 weeks. I have none left, though will be collecting some on Tuesday. Right now, I feel numb. It’s interesting, because I’ve not been this way in a long time. It hasn’t reached the scared, angry, frightened, desperate stage, where I cry and cry and cry and the thought of having to go on living is horrible. I’ll be re-dosed up again before that happens. I feel like I’m looking down on myself, an observer with a negative attitude.

I used to harm myself. There were two main reasons, or situations where I would feel the need. The first is when I feel like I described above; desperate. “Hurt myself to get pain out.” Vent frustration, anger and hate onto my skin. I used to use safety pins, drawing pins, opened out paperclips… hard but not sharp. Enough to scratch and bleed, but not to do anything serious. I’ve never liked knives.

The other, is in this numb state. Almost out of boredom. More like, just to feel something. See the scratch and split skin, watch the tiny dots of blood come to the surface.

I don’t know why I am this way. There’s been no great tragedy, no horrendous thing happen to me. I’ve had counselling, on multiple occasions. It doesn’t work, because that’s not what’s wrong. Both my parents have suffered from depression for years, I think I’ve simply inherited a disposition to be sad & withdrawn.

I hope I don’t pass it onto my children.

I’ve been taking Fluoxetine since July 2007, after my girlfriend left me for her (male) best friend. A slight placebo effect from going to the doctors and getting something to help me, had me feeling a little better from day one. The Prozac got to work seriously fast, and I couldn’t believe the difference. I said to my mum on the phone, ‘Is this what normal people feel like? I this what being happy feels like?’

I saw my GP several weeks after his first prescription, and he said a different person walked in the door. The next month I went to a friend’s party and met my current boyfriend. He is my soulmate and the love of my life, and, in a way, I’ve got Prozac to thank for finding him…