Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Lexapro Induced Anesthesia

I don't cry much.

Thank you, Lexapro.

You know, I'm the sort of person who would rather just show you her wounds, and admit to her weaknesses.

Well, here they are...I struggle with some sort of generalized anxiety. And, thus, the Lexapro. I love it, and...I hate it. I love that I no longer panic at each and every little stress-inducing issue in my life (i.e. when I find a lump in my back I am not rendered incapable of functioning for fear that it's cancer), and I hate that I feel so utterly disconnected from my deepest feelings.

I used to cry often. I cried at Hallmark commercials, and the periwinkle shades of lilacs, and cried while watching my step-daughters dance. I cried while reading Lucile Cliffton poetry, and I cried at Indigo Girls' ballads. And now, I'm a little more...well, stoic. And while this keeps me from worrying about so much, it also keeps me from experiencing so much.

This all goes to say that for the first time in weeks (or months?) I wept. And the reason is this: (bear with me I don't know how to link things yet...) (essay on open communion). Oh my God(/ess). Why is it this makes me weep? What in me longs for this kind of meal?

My week is almost over. I am grateful. I need some space.