I went to the psychiatrist and I now have pills and that whole experience was like a very expensive version of winning the Golden Ticket. I think in my version the old people who never leave the bed (with the exception of Grandpa, of course) are some weird manifestation of my depression and anxiety. I’m too tired to figure out what the exact metaphor is…but I think it’s there somewhere. So now I’m on a daily dose of Zoloft with a side of Xanax. Which means “as needed.” Aka in 15 days when we board the 6-hour flight to Seattle. Holy shit that’s soon.
I’ve been on Zoloft for a week and a half now and I feel tired as fuck. Like I hit a brick wall every day. But whether it’s the Zoloft or the fact that I decided to go off my thyroid medication is anyone’s guess. But it was either this or a different pill that she said, “doesn’t make people gain weight, but does make them hungry.” I opted to risk killing my libido yet again in favor of not putting on another 25 pounds. Because let’s be real, my libido is going down one way or the other…
In other news, Alaska is fully booked. After we go I’ll share the full itinerary because it’s a doozy. And by doozy I mean neurotic. Don’t worry. I know that the whole schedule could go to shit. And if that happens, I promise I won’t fall apart, I’m not that nuts. Really its purpose is to be sure we don’t wake up every morning and wonder what we should do for the day and then waste hours trying to figure it out. Now we have a sense of direction. Not to mention a shit ton of restaurant options. Because if there’s ever something Stephanie and I can absolutely agree on, it’s a love of good food. We are fancy lil diners and we 100% know that about ourselves. I can spot a cool restaurant from a mile away so you better believe food is a huge focal point of this adventure.
And last but not least, Gilly got maybe hit by a car but most likely attacked by an animal. He’s in a full week of recovery now and doing much better but still has a silly limp and still whines at me to pick him up onto the couch and the bed. Stephanie says he’s milking it. I say he can milk it all he wants. Because he’s a little baby who was in pain and couldn’t say anything about it because he’s a cat and he’ll never be able to tell me what’s wrong ever and that breaks my heart and I’m tearing up just thinking about it. (Also, yes, we did let the cat outside. Get off my back.)
I’m feeling stir crazy tonight so that’s enough
swish swish, salmon fish
(this may be a stretch)
I’m sure you’ve heard Praying by Ke$ha but have you heard this one?