I Was a Zombie Last December

The overwhelming power of the grief was debilitating last fall.  I felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Thus I felt compelled to seek medical help. 

Due to constant anxiety attacks and an inability to function, I started taking a daily prescription drug for anxiety and depression.  My brain is foggy at the moment, but I think it was Zoloft. 

As it set in, I noticed the anxiety begin to subside. 

However, so did the emotion.

I am an emotional person.  I like to cry.  I know that sounds odd, but I do.  It feels like a release.  I love a good sentimental movie, song, or book that brings the hot, salty tears to my eyes. 

As the medicine flowed through my system, I felt incapable of crying.

By December, I was completely ON the meds.  As I reached first after first after first, I felt sadness.  Yet the sadness merely simmered beneath the surface.  The tears just wouldn't come out. 

I felt like a zombie. 

I didn't like it. 

I don't remember the date, but sometime after the holidays I began to ease off the daily meds by cutting the dose in half.  At some point, I was done completely. 

By this point, I was exercising again and keeping the anxiety SOMEWHAT at bay with that. 

I cannot stand the anxiety that makes me feel incapable of functioning, but I also could not stand feeling like a zombie. 

So here we are in December of 2014 and I am hitting second after second after second.  (along with the occasional first as well).  And there are tears. 

And I suppose that there should be tears. 

If this has to be my reality, which I wish to God it wasn't, but if it is, then there must be tears.