self

(no subject)

Even though I am feeling on the positive side of neutral to all right, I think it is a sign of something that I am unwilling to look myself in the eyes in the mirror.

And I just noticed that I'm unwilling to look even the plushie seal calf in the eyes.
self

Mens Sana?

No.

A week ago my psych put me on a regime of mitrazepine, 15 milligrams daily, in addition to the escitalopram, also 15 milligrams daily. The adjustment of medication has not had the desired effect so far; only the side-effects have manifested.

The noted symptoms include

  • drying of mouth
  • slight apathy
  • elevated appetite -- I have to be eating something almost continuously
  • restlessness
  • elevated pulse or blood pressure or something
  • dreams turning oppressive (the first few nights they were just more lively; now they're turning sour)
  • some 16 to 20 hours after taking the pill, significantly elevated anxiety, bordering on panic
Today the range and severity of symptoms brings the whole on the borderlands to serotonine syndrome. I'm calling the psych tomorrow to let her know of the situation. Most probably we'll be discontinuing the mitrazepine, given that it has not had the effect we wanted on giving a more peaceful night's sleep.

self

(no subject)

The hydraulic log splitter makes the job of cutting firewood much more efforless and convenient. But it feels blasphemous. The solid thunk of the axe on the wood, the xcrack of the log as it splits, those are highly rewarding. No such immediate feedback from using the machine.

I cite as an excuse to use modern machinery that my back (both upper and lower) is somewhat sore from yesterday when I felled and brought in three trailer-loads of wood from the back edge of the property. Yesterdays work seems to have been a bit more than my musculature (ha!) had expected.

self

Legitur

Ayn Rand, Anthem

Given her background, perhaps some of the extremism can be excused. And there are gems in the book, no matter what.

self

(no subject)

AAAGH
AAAAGH
AAAAAGH
*pant* *pant*

Yes, I'm screaming and hyperventilating.

http://vitterhetsakad.se/aktuellt/Rea.pdf

The Swedish Royal Academy and The Swedish National Board of Antiquities are having a huge sale of their publications. HUGE. SALE. OF NERDY AND GEEKY BOOKS.

Insider rumour is that much of the stock will be going at a rate of SEK50 -- per SACK OF LOOT! (In other monetary units, http://www.google.com/search?q=50+SEK+in+EUR )

AAAGH.
self

Mens sana?

Better living through chemistry.

I have for a long time vigorously resisted that sentiment. I staunchly believe that at least partially due to not using medicaments too much and too often, I respond pretty well and pretty strongly to the absolutely necessary shortish chemical interventions.

It was only after a long and detailed discussion on the mechanism and effects of the SSRIs that I consented to start using that. I need to see it more as a replacement therapy, or medication for a chronic condition. Anyhow, the SSRI regime has given me the possibility to get out of the rut and work towards more complete self-healing.

I have used tranquilisers (oxazepam, mostly) as symptomatic treatment, and the consumption has been mostly low; the 30 pills of 15 milligrams will last several months.

The last week and a half in work was rather more stressful than I realized at the time; by the pill count I must have been taking one or two every workday, perhaps three on some.

Although using the tranqs will enable me to walk among humans undetected, and even do some productive work, I am rather certain that they do depress my creativity and may flatten my emotional experientia. Thus, while I will not refuse to take the pill when the anxiety is overwhelming, I will monitor the consumption more closely and include that metric in my self-assessment.

self

Legitur

Bruce Chatwin, Posliiniparoni [Utz]

When I came to the finish, I was wanting an ending, a closure. Thinking more about it, I'm not so sure of anything.

self

Naturalia

For the last few days it has been somewhat warm considering we are well into October already. This makes for wonderful foggy days.

An October fog when the leaves have turned all shades of red and yellow is amazingly comforting a sight. Combined with the (relative) warmth, the outdoor air feels like the fuzziest of soft blankets imaginable. The smell of newly turned soil, the fragrance of decaying leaves are intensified and the mingle into a perfume full of promise; this is not an end, it is simply preparation for new births in months to come.

The hare has moved from under the lilac to the willow bushes. When I go down the fields, he will spring away, a dozen or two dozen yards. When I'm far enough, then he will return to his favourite daynap spot.

I will light a fire and take a nap in the sofa, or at least a minor rest.

self

Cultiva

The previous owners grew strawberry commercially here. Like almost all commercial strawberriers, they used permanent mulch -- that is, black plastic ground cover. That plastic was still remaining on what I used as my strawberry patch and one other strip, perhaps some 1000 sq.m. in total. Quarter of an acre? Who cares.

Today I finally had a neighbour in with the plough and two kinds of tillers to yank the majority of the non-biodegrade material off the loam. The strawberry patch was easy, it only took a a few runs with the deep-tined cultivator and the deed was done, except of course for raking the debris and bagging the plastics.

The other fieldlet offered serious resistance. Having been fallow for well over five years, there was all kind of root and thing. Ploughing was an absolute necessity. Then several runs were made with a disc harrow to break up the worst rhizomatous clumps and pieces of turf. Only then the tined cultivator was able to bite in to the soil and drag up the plastics. The procedure, of course, left a lot more small scraps scattered in the field, but at least it is no longer suffocating the soil. I hope to get most of it raked out during the fall.

Then to start planning the plantings. Some vegetative art that will show up in satellite imagery?

self

Mens sana?

What are some of the signals that told me that this would be a good time to take a break?

During the summer vacation (four weeks, and still days left over so that I can have paid time off for the full 12 days of Christmas) I never managed to get to the restful and relaxed state. This should have been enough to tell me that I need to take it a leetle bit easier when I get back to the office.

I lost interest in reading. Even during the deepest parts of my current depressive episode I kept reading and liked to read. Not necessarily heavy or highbrow stuff, but reading. Now for more than a months I have had little inclination to read. I might read one page, and then I put the book down. A couple of days later I might read that same page again, and put the book down again. Not captivating. And for me, not a good sign.

My concentration span has been all over the place. From flitting every few minutes from one thing to the next, to immersing myself so thoroughly in to the business at hand that I forget to go to lunch. And in the last couple of weeks the balance has been in the flittery side. Not good.

Interacting with humans has become taxing. I can do it, convincingly and painlessly, but it takes time to recover from the effort. On Monday and Tuesday, the last working days I had this week, I noticed that I hesitate slightly before I open my office door and enter the public spaces of the department. Aversion to humanity is not a good thing even for the introvert.

My libido has been rather low. And although I know what a refreshing feeling a good indulgence in depravity can bring, I haven't been able to muster the interest and go hunting for suitable victims.

Also, there has been a clear feeling of emptiness and non-presence. If I am not paying attention, my movements and actions are decidedly mechanical.

Well. Those do look like sufficient cause for re-assessment of the current situation.