Wow. First of all, I can't thank y'all enough for all the words of support and camaraderie in the comments and emails. You guys are seriously the best readers in the entire world, and I will kick anyone who says otherwise.
So. THAT was an adventure, was it not? I think the majority of that crap is out of my system, finally, as the only remaining symptom is that I'm a little tired and my dreams are still torturous, but the whole zombie-feeling is gone, which is the most important thing.
The scariest thing of all, really, was when I realized that I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about writing, or reading, or doing anything at all. I was just sleeping and staring and I didn't have a problem with that. I don't want to think about how it would have progressed, had I not stopped the Zyprexa. What if I didn't care enough that I stopped listening to my body? What would have happened then?
I'll tell you one thing for free, I wouldn't be writing. And that's terrifying to me. Even this morning I was thinking "Eh, I could write, or not, whatever," when I am usually my best (whatever that entails, ha) at writing in the morning, and also the most motivated TO write. It's my outlet, my voice, my world, and there's part of me (down from the majority of me) that doesn't really care.
That's terrifying. I will deal with the paranoia. I will deal with the mood swings. But I am never, ever, going on another medication like Zyprexa again. Ever. To do that would be giving up a part of me, and I'm not ready to let myself go like that.
So now it's back to reality. I have no food in the house, it's a mess in here, and I have loads to do for the super sekrit project (abandoned completely when I was all messed up, very bad indeed) so it's off to the salt mines with me. Thanks again for everything, you guys, I really mean it.
Back later if I'm feeling funny (haha funny, not uh-oh funny)