I've stated here before that I'm medicated. Oddly enough, during a confluence of overwhelming events last year (April 15, the death throes of a most beloved grandmother, sundry stresses) I was persuaded by my doctor to try an anti-depressant. Best thing I've done in a LOOOONG time. Seriously, it made me feel like I had my life back. Things were still serious and sad, but it didn't grind me into the ground, ya know? So along about November, I was contacted by my insurance company and told I had to change my prescription from the one that was working to one that was one atom off, chemically. At first, I didn't notice a tremendous difference, but eventually, I was back to the same old crap-- activity level of a veal, sleeping habits of a housecat, chemically grumpy, not the energetic, wickedly gleeful grumpy that is my natural state which I'm sure you know and love. A few weeks ago I called my doctor up and said "Um, I gotta have my old shit back. Mama needs her medicine." Turns out, the reason they changed me was money, and the new medicine was $7/month, whereas the good shit was $30/month. Seriously. Pocket change - less than a cup of coffee per day. I was infuriated. I'm glad I learned about this before hitting an age where a larger number of pharmaceuticals are required for general health purposes. The object lesson is not to be cowed by the mofos at your insurance company into switching from something that solves the problem - that is the entire reason for their existence - fixing what ails you. I should have asked more questions at the time. Now, a few weeks back on my propers, I've attacked the Close Encounters Laundry Pile™, I'm not craving sleep all the time, and I just feel better in general. Incidentally, Lexapro™ (God bless Forest Laboratories) has not affected my substantial libido one bit, and I am delighted to report zero erection difficulties. Heh heh.
All this is not to say that I'm a walking, talking advert for the anti-depressant industry. I think there is something to be said for going through the grief process au naturel, but sometimes the hard-wiring of the limbic system is simply too ingrained to overcome when it comes to dealing with stress. There may come a day when I wean myself off this, but I don't know when that will be. For now, me and my daily dose are officially happy together, and I'm sticking with it like white on rice.