Wednesday 3 October 2012
Contact Us
Being King Lear, I am, of course, employing the royal 'us.' This web-log, at present, is a solo effort. For the purpose of this web-log our contact address is kinglearblog@outlook.com
And I Shall Sleep at Noon
I see a total of 10 people have viewed this web-log. Hooray! I am not a good web-logger. I am a good tweeter. I am not a good writer in the sense that I am inconsistent. I go on a writing binge, and then I may not write anything for months.
Well, wherefore this long delay? My psychiatrist thought that it would be a good idea if I took more medication. Instead of taking 75 milligrams of lustral (sertraline) I should instead take 100 milligrams. I complied with his wish... well at least at first. I am terrified that these tablets could damage my brain. Any small twinge, or ache, and that is brain damage: I do be convinced of it. Perhaps I am different to most of the mentally ill. Many mentally ill people are suicidal, but not I.
But whereas the Fool wishes to die, I wish to live. The best revenge is a good life, and I need to exact this revenge. To die, and to fail is to hand victory to my perceived enemies.
So, anyway, after about a week, I stopped taking the increased dose, and reverted to the original. But such traumata as these knock the stuffing out of me for weeks, nay: months!
And the problems, which necessitated my taking an increased dose persist. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that they have even worsened. My hypochondria is the worst it has ever been, and my thoughts are filled with cursing, obscenity and self-loathing.
I discovered a wonderful diaphragmatic breathing application on my Smart Phone, today. I shall provide a link, anon (soon!)
Well, wherefore this long delay? My psychiatrist thought that it would be a good idea if I took more medication. Instead of taking 75 milligrams of lustral (sertraline) I should instead take 100 milligrams. I complied with his wish... well at least at first. I am terrified that these tablets could damage my brain. Any small twinge, or ache, and that is brain damage: I do be convinced of it. Perhaps I am different to most of the mentally ill. Many mentally ill people are suicidal, but not I.
"And I shall sleep at noon."These are the ominous last words of the Fool in King Lear. He never speaks again, and is taken to be dead. Indeed some read into this that the Fool commits suicide.
But whereas the Fool wishes to die, I wish to live. The best revenge is a good life, and I need to exact this revenge. To die, and to fail is to hand victory to my perceived enemies.
So, anyway, after about a week, I stopped taking the increased dose, and reverted to the original. But such traumata as these knock the stuffing out of me for weeks, nay: months!
And the problems, which necessitated my taking an increased dose persist. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that they have even worsened. My hypochondria is the worst it has ever been, and my thoughts are filled with cursing, obscenity and self-loathing.
"I hate my fucking self. I want to hang myself."These are the sorts of semi-involuntary thoughts that course through my brain. Of course, I do not wish to hang myself, at all: but sometimes the thought of my dangling at the end of a rope gives me a perverted sense of relief.
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