Work work work

My doctor’s even say I work too much. I only do it, because I have to pay bills, save money to move or do what I want, and eat. I don’t qualify for food stamps or any government assistance; at one point I was making only $100 too much to qualify and I was the only one working. The days I try taking for myself I feel guilty and end up taking extra shifts.


Why do this to ourselves?

Shouldn’t overall health matter? I work sick and hurt and exhausted and beat down. I work hours on end and barely scrap by.

Some days I envy people with WIC and food stamps, because they have that to feed themselves, others days I want to slap them, because I see them buying shit food like soda, candy and other sweets.

Dark is my heart right now.


A Tough Month

The last time I was on my doctor started me on Cymbalta, to help combat my depression and maybe my joint pain. I ended up almost passing out at work a couple times due to the medication. After talking with my counselor and doctor I gave the ok to try Prozac. After three weeks on 20mg a day plus extra vitamin D, it was helping. With it I wasn’t so angry or sad at myself or the world; I was working on bettering myself. I had even started going back to the gym. Then about a week ago I started feeling down. Meaning, though I was doing everything good for me I was feeling shittier every day. It kept getting worse and on a Thursday night, after a long day I wanted to end it and didn’t feel bad like I normally would of I had thoughts of suicide. I couldn’t stop crying and wasn’t able to get across anything to my boyfriend who was trying to help. It started with some relaxers, than ¬†drowsy sick meds, and last of all several sleep aids I take normally. I hadn’t taken a lethal dose thanks to my boyfriend, but I did want to end it all that night. The next morning I woke up feeling like shit and listened to a voicemail from my father telling me how my grandmother’s sister, my grate aunt, had passed away in the early morning. I called in and took the day to recoup and spend time with a cousin in town. Spending time with her helped and I opened up to her a bit, but knew I had to do something about my medication.

Today was the first day I took a 40mg dose of the Prozac. If in a week it doesn’t help I’ll try a new deug. Maybe talk to my counselor about anxiety or bipolar meds, cause who knows. I don’t want to be a part of the high rate of bloggers who stop writing, so please be patient if you watch for my blogs. I’m just tired.