genesis

"Why don't you just go see someone and take the medication?" One of the most influential people in my life was telling me, without really telling me, that I needed some kind of help. So, I went. I saw someone; a mousy plain-Jane therapist named Amy. I told her of my recent breakup, my history of suicidal ideation, my OCD tendencies. I asked her about medication and she referred a psychiatrist; a no-nonsense Indian woman. She asked only the most perfunctory questions and handed me a prescription for Luvox. I began taking it precisely as described. I did not deviate from my scheduled dose. I began to feel better. Was it the Luvox or my liberation from a disastrous relationship? Was it the Luvox or that my dear friend had moved to the area and I finally had a partner in crime with whom to discover the city? Was it a combo platter of all three? I don't know. Perhaps my neurotransmitters had been dormant for so long that the Luvox was a much needed kick in the ass to get the Seratonin moving around again. I went vegan. I lost weight. Men were looking at me again. I was feelin' fine! I was promoted. I was thrown into a new schedule, new office, new cagey political work situations. I stopped making my appointments with my shrink. I stopped taking my meds as prescribed. My friend started a series of short term albeit intense relationships with recovering alcoholics she met in AA. I had lost my partner in crime. I started to eat garbage again. I saw my psychiatrist. "How much weight have you lost?" she demanded. "Forty pounds." I was proud.
"Do you know that anorexia is a side effect of Luvox?" she asked.
"Uhh, no...I am far from anorexic, I assure you...I have changed my diet..." I stammered.
Why does she seem impatient or angry with me?
"How is your sleep?" she cut me off.
"Well, I wake up throughout the night, usually every couple of hours..."
"How about friends? How many friends do you have?" she cut me off again.
I felt attacked. I felt like I was being interrogated. My eyes filled with tears.
" I have a couple...I guess."
She was staring at me, hard. "Why do you become tearful when I ask you about friends? Why do you have no friends?"
I couldn't answer her. My throat was clenched around a sob.