Goodbye Prozac.

You have been my friend, and my enemy. I officially sever all contact with you; we shall not even be acquaintances. You are a significant footnote in the history of my life. But this is my new decade (I just hit 20). I will go on, and your green and yellow curves will drag me no further.

1 week today, I will be me. Just me. Not chemically altered Jelly.

For a year and three months, I have been a slave to Prozac. It has been my staple breakfast. Skipped pills gave me hell in the following days. Nothing compared to the week of horrific nausea (I am reliably informed by a GP friend that I did actually go green for the first day - big thanks to that same friend for the Metaclopramide!), but still noticable and enough to put fear into my heart, fear that if one skipped pill produced that depth of low, then how would permanent absence of that life-saver be?

Time to find out. It was my New Year Resolution. It's on my 101/1001 list. I have seen my mother sink so low as to end up hospitalised, and her subsequent intense long-lasting pride at kicking the SSRI habit. My experience of depression was much milder than hers. So I know I can do this.

I have insight (in the psychological definition) into my condition. I can tell when I'm sinking. I know the triggers (bloody hormones!) and have coping strategies. Now is the right time to do this. I've had a fantastic first year at uni, proved to myself that I deserve to be a medical student, sailed into second year, and there's an awesome summer ahead of me. I have amazing friends, brilliant housemates, and the best boyfriend I could wish for. And I have God. Despite our correspondance being minimal over recent years, I know He is always there for me. Through Him I can do all things.

"But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint" Isiaiah 40:31

An aside: microwaved scones with butter = the BEST snack ever.