In two weeks’ time, I have planted my vegetable garden out back.  I have found unwelcome visitors in my cannabis plants inside and hopefully dealt with them.  I set up my greenhouse with tomatoes, cucumbers and Pineapple Express.  I have stopped thinking about someone my every waking moment.  I quit my addiction to Facebook.  I started taking Bupropion.  So I ought to feel accomplished, right?  Well, kinda.

I feel “kinda”.  I’m about to go on a trip to see my mom and brothers in Seattle.  Okay.  Anxiety at the thought of being in a huge city?  Meh.  The joy I felt as I tended my medicinal plants?  Chores.  Smoke a bowl of my own grown sweetleaf?  Maybe later.  This is not me.  I’m starting to suspect that this antidepressant the VA has me taking is squelching my inner fire.  I did say I’d try it for a few months, and it’s only been a couple of weeks.  But if this feeling or lack of feeling is what being on an even keel is supposed to be, I think I’ll have to wean myself off of it when this prescription expires, which is a 90 day supply.  That way, I’ll have given it a fair shake.  Right?  I’d rather have a bit of the ol’ anxiety and feel my feels, than not.  Because it’s gone.  My spark.  My mojo.  My muse.  I feel like I’ve broken up with my inspiration.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *