I'm crazy alive these days.
I know, most of you didn't know I was dead, but I was. Walking Dead, like in the movie, only the bags under my eyes have been slightly less noticeable.
Since I decided to kick my Prozac cold turkey, life is great. I know, I wasn't supposed to do that, but I really didn't want to wait 12 weeks and try to keep track of weaning doses. Not to mention, I felt like if I didn't get off it right now, I was going to explode. (Is it possible to explode from napping? Because that's about all I was capable of there at the end.)
I had no idea how lethargic and listless I had become or how much it was affecting every part of my life to be that sedated. Yes, I know that less than a year ago I was singing the praises of this drug and I'm not going back on my word. It was a great thing for awhile for me. It helped me cope with all that s**t we went through with Matt and probably saved me from other mental health catastrophes along the way. But the crises mode is over and I need to get on with my days, in some state of awareness now.
You probably don't need to know all that, but remember, that's the theme here. Family makes you crazy. Or something like that. At any rate, I'm back in the real world and hoping I didn't miss too much while I was gone.
Just wanted to tell someone.