Anti-depressants starting to offer acceptance, perspective and balance
It's been a long haul and I'm nowhere near the end…if ever.
The last two nights I've had dreams with few anxiety elements. Significantly for me the dreams don't feel connected to the trauma of my failed marriage. A noteworthy hopeful first!
Also, my endless self-critical monologue is quieter. This is making it a bit easier to focus on other tasks—reading, cooking, hitting a tennis ball, conversations.
I specifically feel less anxious about the financial stress of paying out my divorce settlement. It will get done. Mina will receive her unearned loot (though I hugely appreciate all the childcare and cooking and housecleaning she did to support my wealth accumulation all those years. And the wonderful friends she shared when she liked them. And the fun option of supporting all her failed efforts at fame or whatever it was she aspired to between bouts of campaigning against me.)
Easy to ignore her unregulated lawyers who she was too unskilled or hostile to manage. What a team of bill-generators! If you take morally compromised clients, referred from a conflicted lawyer (hi, Deb! Good news finally for Julian!) you just have to suck it up and inflate your timesheets to have enough cash to buy air freshener. (Imagine the stink in Rudy's office since his marquee client deadbeated him and his Glade ran out.)
That paragraph was fun to write!
The "Good Riddance" posse, including my ghosting ex-wife, really are inconsequential, matching the downward trendline of her (and my) community since we met. You'd be surprised to learn she had an MLS from Columbia Law School. I know. Right?
Small people. Small lives. I think Zoloft is beginning to offer acceptance for me…small but my life was precious to me. I am precious to me. Ceci. My ailing brother. My small home in the mountains. The moon and Orion, on the southern horizon for the first time tonight. Winter.
The last two nights I've had dreams with few anxiety elements. Significantly for me the dreams don't feel connected to the trauma of my failed marriage. A noteworthy hopeful first!
Also, my endless self-critical monologue is quieter. This is making it a bit easier to focus on other tasks—reading, cooking, hitting a tennis ball, conversations.
I specifically feel less anxious about the financial stress of paying out my divorce settlement. It will get done. Mina will receive her unearned loot (though I hugely appreciate all the childcare and cooking and housecleaning she did to support my wealth accumulation all those years. And the wonderful friends she shared when she liked them. And the fun option of supporting all her failed efforts at fame or whatever it was she aspired to between bouts of campaigning against me.)
Easy to ignore her unregulated lawyers who she was too unskilled or hostile to manage. What a team of bill-generators! If you take morally compromised clients, referred from a conflicted lawyer (hi, Deb! Good news finally for Julian!) you just have to suck it up and inflate your timesheets to have enough cash to buy air freshener. (Imagine the stink in Rudy's office since his marquee client deadbeated him and his Glade ran out.)
That paragraph was fun to write!
The "Good Riddance" posse, including my ghosting ex-wife, really are inconsequential, matching the downward trendline of her (and my) community since we met. You'd be surprised to learn she had an MLS from Columbia Law School. I know. Right?
Small people. Small lives. I think Zoloft is beginning to offer acceptance for me…small but my life was precious to me. I am precious to me. Ceci. My ailing brother. My small home in the mountains. The moon and Orion, on the southern horizon for the first time tonight. Winter.
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