Oh, Jilli, that's priceless.

::shoves more chocolate through the interwebs to Jilli::

Clovis needs to deal with them.

Now.

t passes Jilli a cuppa

And just tossing in my $.02 on pharmacueticals for depression. My father, my sister, and I are all on the same antidepressant, and each of us arrived at that with different doctors, without consulting each other. I discovered this on my last visit with Dad as we discussed all the drugs we'd been on, and how both of us had the exact same reactions to all the usual suspects. This after many years (9 in my case) of treatment before arriving on a drug that functionally treated my depression without leaving me with severe side effects. Had i brought up the subject a few years earlier, i could have possibly spared myself years of nasty side effects based on Dad's reactions.

Sure, sometimes depression is environmental. Imma gonna go out on a limb and say that it can also be an inherited chemical imbalance, just based on my own personal experience. Not that i'm a Dr or anything ;P

Jilli, that's... weird.

Talking therapy is just stretching exercises for your brain.

Sure. But it makes me cranky. Except with really good therapists - who tend to be expensive (and I'm a self-funding grad student with no money). So, for the moment I'm doing without. I'll try again in the future.

I am going to have a chocolate mousse and a cup of tea. And that is deep as my brain wants to think this evening.

A tech editing contract gig ... that pays about 2/3 of what I made ... as a contractor ON THE TEAM THAT I WAS LAID OFF FROM.

That? Is some weak-ass shit. Feh.

w/r/t anti-depressants, I think all y'all have witnessed my attempts to go off them, most notably my Zoloft-free Massive! Panic! Attacks! of last fall. So my brain, apparently, needs drugs. And I am more than willing to provide them.

The whole thing has put me in kind of a defiant black humor. I am channeling my inner Way brothers and muttering "Motherfucker!" a lot and then laughing. Fuck this notion of a day job. I'm going to direct my energy to writing and talking to my contacts about the slim chance of me getting some sort of reality show. I just have to stop laughing hysterically, first.

Embrace the hysterical laughter. It brings power.

My father, my sister, and I are all on the same antidepressant, and each of us arrived at that with different doctors, without consulting each other.

My dad and I recently compared notes, and yeah. We are on the same antidepressant, put on it by different doctors at different times. While I have issues (okay, fine, subscriptions), I also now accept that my body doesn't make some of the chemicals it needs, and the medication isn't a crutch.

Tommy, there is a Bipolar II designation--also called cyclothymia which is a milder form of bipolar disorder.

There I am!!