Today is my eighth day on Fluoxetine. I am taking one pill a day, and the only way I can tell how many I’ve taken is by looking at the pack; that’s how my memory is these days. And the only way I know I’ve taken one today is that there is a kind of nauseous background to my day. I feel no different as yet. I am still completely uninterested in food, so am forcing down the occasional meal or snack while trying to concentrate on something else so as not to be sick.
I got my mother’s disapproval yesterday, which I’m still processing. It’s not new to be doing something she doesn’t like – she’s always had a comment about my hair, my weight. I feel like I am growing up; for the first time I realised it didn’t really matter what she thought because I can make these decisions now. I don’t think that if everyone around me disagreed, I would do anything differently. I have justified it to myself and that’s enough. I am doing everything I can right now to get better. I have my good days and bad days. I know what the best route is, and I have done what I can to achieve that. I am just not so strong that I can do the wait entirely alone. I need a bit of help. It is a temporary measure, and I am okay with it. Sometimes you need to open up to things you never considered right before, and I think this is a progressive step. I don’t like the ideology behind medication for these problems, but if they aren’t powerful enough to do the job, then they aren’t powerful enough to make me any worse. I am stronger than that, at least, and I know I will keep my head out of the clouds during this endeavour.
I am ever more grateful for my Nearly family, all my friends and my man. I love you all more than you could know. Please know that I keep you in my life because you are amazing and worthwhile, and you nurture me in many different ways. I am growing and it is because of you, as well as me, and the powers that be. Love love.