Merry Quinn

Spent fuel

A prescription note for Atomoxetine

I feel like a spent fuel rod from a nuclear reactor. Still technically full of energy, but unstable, overheating, and slowly running out of stamina and sanity.

Ever since Atomoxetine stabilised my brain chemistry, I can just do shit now. It’s still such a surreal feeling, and I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged from it. I’m capable of doing things I wouldn’t even imagine doing last summer. Everything is generally easier now, but also not really. The biggest positive change I noticed is that I can push through boredom, repetitive tasks, and fear or embarrassment.

The main issue is that my brain simply hasn’t caught up with the change. A change so significant and structural that I don’t even blame it.

It feels like I’ve been split into two polar-opposite versions of myself. One of them keeps saying, “Woah, take it easy there. We can’t handle this, remember?” and the other one is like, “Right, we can do anything, we always could. Now get to work.” Everything feels overwhelming. And somehow still not enough. I keep bracing myself for impact, which never comes because I now have the capacity to handle almost anything. Yet when I do the things I promised I’d do, something very loud and mean appears from the depths of my mind and starts scolding me about how I’m not doing enough.

It is essentially the same problem I described in one of my previous blog posts about perfectionism. Some part of me keeps shifting the goalposts before I can even reach them.

I understand why this is happening, but that doesn’t make it feel any better. The usual suspects are still the same:

  1. Nobody was ever proud of me when I was a child. Therefore, I’m trying to win approval or an imaginary authority which won’t ever be satisfied, regardless of what I do.
  2. I have no track record of success. That shattered my self-confidence when it mattered the most. During my formative years.
  3. My brain keeps an almost unlimited ledger of failures.

Combine all three of these, and you’ll get a nasty potion I like to call “Fuck you 🙂”.

Things feel more or less the same, but this time I’m finally moving forward. Even just a year ago, I felt like for every step forward, I did 3 steps back.

Medication removed the ball and chain from my legs, but now I have to take care of the bruising and swelling around my ankles, or I’ll keep moving like it’s still there.

Music I enjoyed recently

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