The Over-Educated Nympho

I just got back from my first run of the season. Yay for Daylight Savings Time!

I only ran two miles. Nothing noteworthy, but that’s not the point. I don’t run to lose weight. I don’t run to look better in a bikini (I already look damn fine). I don’t run for my health. I don’t run because The Mom tells me exercise helps ward off spells of depression. Those are all perfectly good reasons, but those don’t motivate me.

I just run because I like to run.

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Yesterday was my last day at my job. I saw my therapist Dr. Fixer Upper the day before that. They go hand in hand well. Work makes me sad. Dr Fixer Upper makes me happy. Even though I’m quitting the job I hate, it still got to me. It still broke my spirit. And so I thought it would the perfect time to see my therapist.

That, and I needed more Happy Pills. Before my current insurance got caught off.

Between having chronic depression and ADD and some really bad bouts of anxiety where I almost made myself puke, I’ve tried tons of medications over the years. I can cluck off the names of anti-depressants like a child can name Santa’s reindeer. Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft, Perexa, Celexa, Lexapro, Wellbutrin, Effexor, Serzone. I’ve tried nearly every single one of them. Actually, no. As of this week I HAVE tried every single one these, because my psychiatrist gave me some new samples to try. Then there’s the ADD meds, which I’ve had much less success with. I’m still looking for The One that will complete me. I know it’s out there, I just haven’t found it yet.

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