23 May 2017 - Scotland Day 04 - Lunan Bay, Auchmithie, and a Resurgence
Evening.
Day 88 on Lexapro. I think that, at this point, continuing to take escitalopram is making me feel worse. My options are really limited here, as far as what actions I can take to fix and/or deal with the situation. I could stop taking my antidepressant, but then be forced to deal with the unpleasant physical effects of withdrawal. I could continue taking it, not have any physical effects, but feel psychologically awful and be thousands of miles away from any kind of help. Favorite Person doesn't count here.
I think that I'm going to have to take the plunge and wean myself off Lexapro on my own, while I'm here. There are probably enough resources available online for me to figure out how to do so in a mostly safe manner. If something goes wrong....I'm just going to have to tough it out. No one should carry my burden but me; if it gets to be too much to bear, I just have to find more strength.
Mood: 4.5. Maybe less.
Today was spent largely outdoors, though it started out poorly. I was awake until about 4:30am, slept until 10:45ish, and seriously considered skipping lunch with everyone else (which was at 11:30am). My choice to go to lunch didn't matter, though, since I ate hardly anything anyway. There was a fish soup and bread, and everything tasted fine, but my appetite was nonexistent, as it usually is when I don't feel particularly good mentally. I just wanted to spend all of today under my covers, alone in the dark, but that would be cause for concern for the rest of the group. The need to hide how I feel is strongest when I should be seeking out the help of others.
We went to Lunan Bay first, which is a lovely beach. I liked it there - it was quiet, the sand felt pleasant on my bare feet, I found and explored a WWII-era pillbox - but there was a sort of disconnected, disassociated quality to the enjoyment. It was like watching someone else enjoy something, but not personally enjoying it yourself. Even locating clay deposits by a fast, cold stream barely did more than generate a spark, a ping!, of interest.
While perched on a large bit of rubble that appeared to be the remains of a building that once stood on the shore, I texted Favorite Person that I wished that the plane from Heathrow had fell from the sky with me in it, because I don't deserve to travel and go on trips if I'm not capable of truly enjoying them. Any other person would be shocked to hear that, but I meant it. When I feel things that are strongly negative and possibly illogical, I don't fight it. I merely retreat into myself, shutting other people off, and let it happen.
I took many shells, a bag of sand, and perhaps a pound of the clay that I found. Hopefully the clay is pure enough that it won't need extensive processing before it can be wedged, formed, fired.
There was a castle at Lunan Bay as well, but it didn't hold my interest. I have no roots in Scotland; I'm not a historian. Crumbling remains of ancient strongholds are cool, but that's about it.
After leaving the Bay, we drove over to Auchmithie, a little fishing town. The road down to the beach was narrow and winding, but I was too far recessed into myself to really noticed. My attention was on some fixed point in space, outside of the van.
This beach was very rocky, bounded by towering cliffs of what I believe was sandstone. The tide was low, so we all clambered around, looking at the sights and things. Part of me wanted to stick with Favorite Person in her wellies and explore the little pools together, but the depressed parts that drive me to remove myself from other people won out.
Those parts are still winning out, as I write this in my twin-sized bed, opposite hers.
Cutting beautifully into the cliff faces were short caves, eroded out over time. They weren't large, but I poked around them to see what I may. It was fascinating to note where the high tide line was - I assumed its approximate location to be where the limpets stopped appearing. Being borne of a more landlock folk, I'm not familiar with the tides and how they operate, at least beyond a purely mechanical understanding. I know what they are; I know what they do. This was my first time recognizing for myself the effect that they have on the landscape.
I kept on my footwear this time; the rocks were slippery, or kind of sharp, or completely covered with some kelp-like algae (and I don't like walking across strangely textured substrates). Even with the slightly challenging terrain, I physically enjoyed hopping from rock to stone to fractured boulder, sure of my step. My body liked it, even if my mind didn't connect.
Before leaving the site, I made some balanced rock stacks - they have a more official/proper name, but it eludes me at this moment in time. There was something relaxing about seeking properly sized stones, finding their balance points, and building piles. If I go back to a rocky beach like that again, I want to spend more time making them. Perhaps they will benefit a following traveller.
Dinner today was an amazing burger on a brioche bun with cole slaw and fries (or chips, as they call them over here). As with everything else today, I liked it, but there was a disconnect between what my body experienced and how my mind interpreted that data. Dessert was a PB&J pie (cheesecake?) with creme fraiche, and it was divine. I wanted more, much more, but the thought made me feel guilty about my eating.
The rest of the evening was spent curled up in bed, on my Chromebook, doing so much and so little and feeling worse as time passed. There's a 3/4 full bottle of elderberry wine on the nightstand beside me, and I want to drain it all in a short time span. I don't care about how that will affect my health.
I need to make a sandwich for myself for tomorrow, as we're going to be out all day hiking, but I don't feel like it. I don't deserve food.
Until then I guess.
23 May 2017
Day 88 on Lexapro. I think that, at this point, continuing to take escitalopram is making me feel worse. My options are really limited here, as far as what actions I can take to fix and/or deal with the situation. I could stop taking my antidepressant, but then be forced to deal with the unpleasant physical effects of withdrawal. I could continue taking it, not have any physical effects, but feel psychologically awful and be thousands of miles away from any kind of help. Favorite Person doesn't count here.
I think that I'm going to have to take the plunge and wean myself off Lexapro on my own, while I'm here. There are probably enough resources available online for me to figure out how to do so in a mostly safe manner. If something goes wrong....I'm just going to have to tough it out. No one should carry my burden but me; if it gets to be too much to bear, I just have to find more strength.
Mood: 4.5. Maybe less.
Today was spent largely outdoors, though it started out poorly. I was awake until about 4:30am, slept until 10:45ish, and seriously considered skipping lunch with everyone else (which was at 11:30am). My choice to go to lunch didn't matter, though, since I ate hardly anything anyway. There was a fish soup and bread, and everything tasted fine, but my appetite was nonexistent, as it usually is when I don't feel particularly good mentally. I just wanted to spend all of today under my covers, alone in the dark, but that would be cause for concern for the rest of the group. The need to hide how I feel is strongest when I should be seeking out the help of others.
We went to Lunan Bay first, which is a lovely beach. I liked it there - it was quiet, the sand felt pleasant on my bare feet, I found and explored a WWII-era pillbox - but there was a sort of disconnected, disassociated quality to the enjoyment. It was like watching someone else enjoy something, but not personally enjoying it yourself. Even locating clay deposits by a fast, cold stream barely did more than generate a spark, a ping!, of interest.
While perched on a large bit of rubble that appeared to be the remains of a building that once stood on the shore, I texted Favorite Person that I wished that the plane from Heathrow had fell from the sky with me in it, because I don't deserve to travel and go on trips if I'm not capable of truly enjoying them. Any other person would be shocked to hear that, but I meant it. When I feel things that are strongly negative and possibly illogical, I don't fight it. I merely retreat into myself, shutting other people off, and let it happen.
I took many shells, a bag of sand, and perhaps a pound of the clay that I found. Hopefully the clay is pure enough that it won't need extensive processing before it can be wedged, formed, fired.
There was a castle at Lunan Bay as well, but it didn't hold my interest. I have no roots in Scotland; I'm not a historian. Crumbling remains of ancient strongholds are cool, but that's about it.
After leaving the Bay, we drove over to Auchmithie, a little fishing town. The road down to the beach was narrow and winding, but I was too far recessed into myself to really noticed. My attention was on some fixed point in space, outside of the van.
This beach was very rocky, bounded by towering cliffs of what I believe was sandstone. The tide was low, so we all clambered around, looking at the sights and things. Part of me wanted to stick with Favorite Person in her wellies and explore the little pools together, but the depressed parts that drive me to remove myself from other people won out.
Those parts are still winning out, as I write this in my twin-sized bed, opposite hers.
Cutting beautifully into the cliff faces were short caves, eroded out over time. They weren't large, but I poked around them to see what I may. It was fascinating to note where the high tide line was - I assumed its approximate location to be where the limpets stopped appearing. Being borne of a more landlock folk, I'm not familiar with the tides and how they operate, at least beyond a purely mechanical understanding. I know what they are; I know what they do. This was my first time recognizing for myself the effect that they have on the landscape.
I kept on my footwear this time; the rocks were slippery, or kind of sharp, or completely covered with some kelp-like algae (and I don't like walking across strangely textured substrates). Even with the slightly challenging terrain, I physically enjoyed hopping from rock to stone to fractured boulder, sure of my step. My body liked it, even if my mind didn't connect.
Before leaving the site, I made some balanced rock stacks - they have a more official/proper name, but it eludes me at this moment in time. There was something relaxing about seeking properly sized stones, finding their balance points, and building piles. If I go back to a rocky beach like that again, I want to spend more time making them. Perhaps they will benefit a following traveller.
Dinner today was an amazing burger on a brioche bun with cole slaw and fries (or chips, as they call them over here). As with everything else today, I liked it, but there was a disconnect between what my body experienced and how my mind interpreted that data. Dessert was a PB&J pie (cheesecake?) with creme fraiche, and it was divine. I wanted more, much more, but the thought made me feel guilty about my eating.
The rest of the evening was spent curled up in bed, on my Chromebook, doing so much and so little and feeling worse as time passed. There's a 3/4 full bottle of elderberry wine on the nightstand beside me, and I want to drain it all in a short time span. I don't care about how that will affect my health.
I need to make a sandwich for myself for tomorrow, as we're going to be out all day hiking, but I don't feel like it. I don't deserve food.
Until then I guess.
23 May 2017
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