I don’t feel like it

There are lots of things I could be doing, but I don’t feel like it.

I’ve been writing this and that. I have lots of drafts, both older and current, and I still have ideas of things to write about. But I usually run out of enthusiasm well before they’re ready to publish.

Cuddling is great, but I don’t feel like kissing or having sex. I could get myself off but – shrug.

I could take some photos of myself. It’s been a while, and I’ve hardly used the tripod I bought. But I’d have to clear a space or at least tidy, and even if I didn’t, I just don’t feel like it.

I have a stack of nonfiction to read. This is usually a daytime endeavour because I prefer fiction before bed, but I have a book that’s an easy enough read that it doesn’t wind my brain up and ruin my sleep. I have another one on the go for daytime. I just don’t usually feel like reading them. I end up catching up on Twitter instead.

Tidy the basement and declutter? Do some baking? Sometimes I’m too tired or busy for this stuff, but when I’m not, I don’t feel like it.

Apathy and flattening of affect can result from depression, but I don’t feel depressed any more. Down moods are very infrequent and mild, and I feel content more often than I feel down. My usual mood is OK, probably about 6-7 out of 10.

I felt like doing things was nearly impossible before. Sometimes if I felt like my brain was on enough to try to work, I’d sit in front of my computer, keen to start but unable to do so. Things don’t feel all that difficult now, but I feel like I care less. I just can’t be bothered.

I stumbled upon an older article of JoEllen Notte’s (The time Celexa ate my brain), which led me to brush up on the side effects of citalopram, an SSRI that I’ve been taking for over a year now:

  • Loss of libido – check. I was warned about this, but it was still frustrating when it happened because it feels so much like pre-epiphany disinterest that it felt like retrograde motion. What if it never comes back? What if this is the real me?
  • Change to sleep and alertness, brain fog – check. I now sleep an extra hour at night, and often feel blah during the day. I also have this mystery fatigue that’s been a problem for the last number of years, and attributed my current fog to the continuing fatigue. But maybe it’s not 100% responsible after all.
  • Problems with memory and concentration – check. This was a problem with the depression so I didn’t think about it much. It feels better than it was, but I’m still not functioning well. I used to find it easy to learn things because I would just remember them, but with memory affected, I feel a bit dumb, which is a hit to the self-image.
  • Change in weight – actually, yeah. My weight has always been really stable but I’ve gained about 10 pounds in the last year, which is 5 pounds over my previous maximum weight. (My breasts are looking great, actually, but I prefer them smaller.)
  • Gastrointestinal effects – check. I get the occasional feeling of mild nausea out of the blue. And then there’s the near-constant bloating, though I seem to have developed Irritable Bowel Syndrome about a year prior to starting on these meds, but surely they’re not helping.
  • Dizziness, vertigo – check, I think. I have issues with dizziness related to blood sugar levels, but this feels different. I spoke to my doctor about it, and he figured it was Benign Positional Vertigo, caused by crystals forming in one of the semi-circular canals in the ear. They dissolve on their own and there isn’t anything you can do except not move your head quickly. But I’ve now had spontaneous dizziness of this sort a handful of times since starting the meds, and prior to that the last (and, as far as I recall, only) bout was over 20 years ago.

So, lots of things going on that might have other causes, but taken all together, I think a lot of this is likely caused by the citalopram.

I found an article positing SSRI-induced indifference as a way of understanding behavioural apathy and emotional blunting. “I don’t feel like it” sure seems to fit here.

The citalopram has definitely helped me. I’m glad I’ve had it and would take it again. But it seems to me that it’s time to be done with it now. I’ll be seeing the doctor in a couple of weeks and am hoping he OKs me to start coming off the stuff.

NYE with Rosa: a coming-out story

New Year’s Eve, a day marking an arbitrary end point on the yearly cycle, doesn’t mean a great deal to me. I didn’t expect it to coincide with a real ending and new beginning.

I went out for coffee with my good friend, Rosa, as we do about once a month. We’re surprisingly alike in the sense that I think we were both surprised to have found someone so much like ourselves. We’ve shared a lot with each other, which is something that neither of us do readily – we’re both introverts, highly sensitive, cautious, self-sufficient, etc.

I’ve told her plenty about the family difficulties I had a few years ago that led to serious personal growth and ultimately (though indirectly) the creation of this blog. I told her about the blog itself (its existence, not the URL) at least a year ago and she treated it as a total non-issue. (She has never really asked me about it which I’d interpreted as disinterest, but now I wonder if she has refrained from asking about it because she’s leaving the decision whether to share entirely up to me. She’s like that.)

She takes privacy and confidentiality very seriously and is as much of a dead end for confidences as I am so I knew that I could trust her with the information.

I’d been thinking about telling her about Jaime since I’d told her about the blog, if not before, because, frankly, Jaime is much more exciting. But caution, as always with me, prevailed. I suppose I worried that she’d judge me as “cheating” on Wolf.

At some point my reason for wanting to tell her had gone beyond “hey, something fun is happening in my life” to “this relationship is really important to me and not sharing it feels inauthentic, like I’m cutting off a part of myself”. The last couple of times we met up, I’d been actively thinking about telling her. The same was true this time and it popped to mind from time to time while we chatted.

After a couple of hours Rosa looked at the time and announced that we should probably think about leaving soon; it was in fact the time when we would ordinarily leave, but we’d gotten there 30 minutes later than usual so I wasn’t ready to go yet. Also, for the previous 10 minutes, I’d been thinking seriously enough about confiding that I had begun to feel nervous. Fuck it. I took a deep breath, smiled and stared off into space somewhere beside her head while I tried to figure out what to say.

I’d thought so much about the fact of telling her but I never considered the words themselves. I don’t really remember what I said ­— something about having something I wanted to tell her but wasn’t sure how to say it — and when I paused to take a breath she said, “I’m all ears!”

So I took another deep breath and, by way of preamble, told her that this was something that no one* knew about, except for Wolf. But … I was also in a relationship with someone other than Wolf.

From there the conversation is even more of a blur. I remember that she started a sentence with “He” and then caught herself — “Is it a he?” — and I said yes, and she continued on with her sentence. How sweet, I thought, that she should be so conscious of not making assumptions about me, and that she has also pre-emptively accepted that I might be bi. But then I don’t expect anything less from her.

Though she hadn’t guessed or predicted it, she said that in a way she wasn’t surprised because she figures I already live a bit outside the box. She didn’t know whether I would take that comment well or poorly, but I found it reassuring. I suppose it’s comforting when someone knows you well enough to expect you to be weird and to be open enough to difference to be OK with that.

She did a lot of the talking and I really don’t remember what she said, though I recognised at times that she was filling the silence with a stream of comforting words to say, “I see you, I (still) like you, and I approve of you.” She recognised that the relationship with Jaime was something I hadn’t undertaken lightly, and respected the fact that I was circumspect about the effects on Wolf and Jaime (and others).

I didn’t tell her a great deal about Jaime — I didn’t even mention his name. I did explain that he’s the person I was visiting on certain of my recent trips. She and I don’t really talk about sex, so it didn’t make sense to lead with that aspect of the relationship but I told her about some other things that make Jaime special to me: that I feel deeply loved by him and that his emotional support is unwavering.

She basically was cool with it all and happy that I was happy. On top of that, she was very happy that I trusted her that much to tell her about it. And she told me she loved me.

Throughout it all, I found myself on the verge of tears despite not being sad or upset. I think it was just the intensity of the vulnerability, like holding my ribcage open for an hour, hoping she wouldn’t reach in and crush my heart.

She shared a couple of personal things with me too, though not so intense. An hour and a half after I launched into this confession, we decided it really was time to leave.

And that’s why I began 2018 feeling happy, accomplished, and even more full of love than before.


* I also mentioned it briefly to Lucas, after he first confessed his own BDSM-based poly situation; and to a mutual acquaintance of Rosa’s and mine who I unexpectedly ran into at a play party, after she first confessed her own queer poly situation.