The world is, quite tangibly, falling apart around us, while I’ve accidentally bluffed my way into a university. Please send help. Or request it, even? Whatever you’re comfortable with.
Happy 2022. Somehow, I’m still alive.
The final leg of my Pregabalin tapering schedule was 25mg every second day, landing the final dose on Monday the 3rd of January.
In an unprecedented feat of emotional stability, of which I am inclined to accredit the overall lack of anti-convulsants:
The month of December was entirely devoid of inconsolable crying!
The phone rings and I take a look.
Although the sun has been up for some time, the curtains are drawn. It’s my day off and aside from chronic insomnia, I’ve been pulling extra hours at work since lockdown ended- today I get to stay quietly in a darkened room.
Claude likes to hang out on the desk, so I got her a couch.
How does it feel knowing you will never be this comfortable?
Work allows staff members to wear holiday themed aprons in December, as long as they’re made out of the seasonal fabrics which are sold in-store.
In previous years I’d been too fucked up on anti-convulsants to feel anything other than apathetic about the idea, but motivation has come back online in their wake, so this year I took the offer to write-off a slice of gingerbread homespun and go absolutely ham with the tartan scraps in my stash.
I’m not saying tapering off pregabalin has cured my depression…
Pills that straightup make you wanna die.
But it is entirely within the realms of possibility that I may have been experiencing one or two Side Effects™.
This lockdown simultaneously lasted longer and ended sooner than anticipated.
Half the country has returned lockdown purgatory, there was like a week there we were allowed out and it was… Well, the mere thought of going outside fills me with dread, which is always a ride but never one I want to be on.
Not long ago my Galaxy S6 went full Samsung and exploded.