Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Fluoxetine Journal 26.01.10
I want to understand and that is why I write, with the sincere hope that at some point in this process there will be some clarity of mind, or it is not even clarity what is sought after, it is a sense of reconciliation, call it redemption even, or the moment right before redemption. I try to understand what goes on in TV, but then it is quite likely I am searching in the wrong place; then I read an alarming article in a newspaper-supplement magazine that talks about odds and wins of reaching the age of 30; how dearly pathetic of me. But it can get worse really because right now I am thankful for each day, specially for the chance to sleep and to sleep under a roof, and not to be molested or asked to leave before a certain hour, not be molested also includes not needing to hide. I am thankful because my health hasn´t collapsed all of a sudden and this is much more than my best expectations of two or three years before when I thought death loomed so close, but I can´t be all too assured – doubt is the most definite experience of my adult life. I am thankful because in spite of my endless mistakes I´m not behind bars or dead or just crazy. Fluoxetine isn´t bad, I mean, I´ve been sober for a whole week and also clean from cigarettes and the urge doesn´t feel strong enough as for now, but then at the same time I haven´t been living too fully and coming out of my shell after that sick Monday, is something I find too demanding and taxing right now but there´s no point in lingering this up to the point that it can represent a threat to my own personal security. I must face Ana María tomorrow and then try to figure out my things. Some random ideas - There´s something in common between Santiago, María Clara and me, something for the ages: Great achievers with wings a little too big for gravity and absolutely but absolutely unacknowledged by our families. That´s what you call a love story, one that ended in oblivion and indifference in the first case and despise and indifference in the latter; but what can I say? I loved Santiago, perhaps I love him still in some little way that I´ve kept hidden very much inside. I would have never been any close to utter anything like this, unless I really needed to and only to myself: I want to love, definitely. Tomorrow or I mean, today later, I hope not to sleep in too much… That is one big problem with antidepressants; they make you sleep in a lot and that´s no good for depression. Another revelation of my own: I certainly have a depression problem. I handle things, get up from bed, write articles, communicate with people and appear in the world, but I do it driven by insurmountable amounts of fear, I handle life only very miserably and have troubles with intimacy. Now a thought from the past: As a philosopher I find philosophy very scary and that´s why I happen to avoid it as much as I can, not that my neurological imbalance isn´t helping out too in avoiding serious academic work but there´s so much more than that. It is not only that I avoid it at all cost, but that I´m no good for anything else.