Haven’t started a thread in a while, so thought I’d disclose a couple of things. I’m doing it in part because it’s cathartic–it just feels good to get it off your chest, as it were. But I’m also doing it because my situation may very well resonate with some or all of you. It’s not all that uncommon, I don’t think.
I’m “neurodiverse,” which is the current euphemism for being “on the Autistic spectrum.” It manifests itself in my case in the typical way of not experiencing feelings things I should feel naturally. I’ve had to learn to feel them. The only thing I’ve felt naturally is alienated from just about everyone my entire life–literally like an alien living among human beings.
The upside to this is I’m smart–smart enough to observe how other people acted and felt and internalized it, so much so that by college, I was rush chairman of my fraternity (which admittedly was kinda Animal House-like). Of course, the downside is this ain’t really me. It’s just a set of dispositions I concocted to get along. So over the course of the past three or so years, particularly during the pandemic and with the love and support of my incredible wife (I got it right the second time), I’ve been peeling back that onion and getting to the real core.
The huge irony of all this is that as a result, I’ve never been more successful in any of my chosen endeavors than I am now. Apparently that alien core ain’t so bad. Weird, sure. Offbeat? You bet. But do I now give a flying fuck? Not one. I’m all out of fucks to give. My fuck jar is empty.
All good, right? Not so fast. Along with this “real me” stuff has come some withering self-criticism, not originating from anyone or any influence other than myself. And that kind of self-criticism, damn, it’s hard to live with sometimes. So when I start going down that rabbit hole, I know it’s happening, but I can’t control it, and it winds up with a desperate wish to go to sleep and not wake up. Alcohol deepens these rabbit holes tremendously and makes them even more difficult to escape. Fortunately, they only last about 24-48 hours before I snap out of it and regain my footing.
I don’t want to die, and SSRI’s only make me dull and impotent, so after going through all of this with my smart and attractive female doc, she put me on Wellbutrin 150mg ED, which you all probably know is a dopamine reuptake inhibitor. I had a feeling it might be the right path for me because I periodically take armodafinil to stay awake during long engine building sessions or legal work, and that is a mild dopamine reuptake inhibitor or perhaps agonist, I don’t know which. Kratom, which I take as a substitute for Advil, has a similar effect, albeit to a much lesser degree than armodafinil.
Upshot is that I’ve started down rabbit holes over the past to weeks on Wellbutrin, but the holes aren’t as deep and the suicidal wishes either don’t appear or don’t stick. The only time it got close is when I let myself have four (yes, four) glasses of wine. That, my friends, was a bad night. So after 57 years of drinking like a fish, I’ve given it up, at least for the near future, as a matter of self-preservation. I’m sure there will be times when I miss it–wine with my wife before a fuck or beers with my sons at a football game–but not enough to jeopardize my life.
A side benefit is: this stuff (Wellbutrin) kinda jazzes me up a bit! I mean, I feel kind of a constant postitive energy. So much so that by 9-10 at night, I’m fucking beat and yes, mercifully, can go to sleep and stay asleep (save for old-man piss sessions) until 5-6 am. I haven’t had that kind of sleep consistently in years, and man I forgot what a difference it makes.
Thanks for reading this far. Hope it was worth it!
PS: Forgot to add that I’m still on 50mg Test Prop ED and 20mg Mast Prop ED and Proviron and Cialis and Telmisartan.
I’m “neurodiverse,” which is the current euphemism for being “on the Autistic spectrum.” It manifests itself in my case in the typical way of not experiencing feelings things I should feel naturally. I’ve had to learn to feel them. The only thing I’ve felt naturally is alienated from just about everyone my entire life–literally like an alien living among human beings.
The upside to this is I’m smart–smart enough to observe how other people acted and felt and internalized it, so much so that by college, I was rush chairman of my fraternity (which admittedly was kinda Animal House-like). Of course, the downside is this ain’t really me. It’s just a set of dispositions I concocted to get along. So over the course of the past three or so years, particularly during the pandemic and with the love and support of my incredible wife (I got it right the second time), I’ve been peeling back that onion and getting to the real core.
The huge irony of all this is that as a result, I’ve never been more successful in any of my chosen endeavors than I am now. Apparently that alien core ain’t so bad. Weird, sure. Offbeat? You bet. But do I now give a flying fuck? Not one. I’m all out of fucks to give. My fuck jar is empty.
All good, right? Not so fast. Along with this “real me” stuff has come some withering self-criticism, not originating from anyone or any influence other than myself. And that kind of self-criticism, damn, it’s hard to live with sometimes. So when I start going down that rabbit hole, I know it’s happening, but I can’t control it, and it winds up with a desperate wish to go to sleep and not wake up. Alcohol deepens these rabbit holes tremendously and makes them even more difficult to escape. Fortunately, they only last about 24-48 hours before I snap out of it and regain my footing.
I don’t want to die, and SSRI’s only make me dull and impotent, so after going through all of this with my smart and attractive female doc, she put me on Wellbutrin 150mg ED, which you all probably know is a dopamine reuptake inhibitor. I had a feeling it might be the right path for me because I periodically take armodafinil to stay awake during long engine building sessions or legal work, and that is a mild dopamine reuptake inhibitor or perhaps agonist, I don’t know which. Kratom, which I take as a substitute for Advil, has a similar effect, albeit to a much lesser degree than armodafinil.
Upshot is that I’ve started down rabbit holes over the past to weeks on Wellbutrin, but the holes aren’t as deep and the suicidal wishes either don’t appear or don’t stick. The only time it got close is when I let myself have four (yes, four) glasses of wine. That, my friends, was a bad night. So after 57 years of drinking like a fish, I’ve given it up, at least for the near future, as a matter of self-preservation. I’m sure there will be times when I miss it–wine with my wife before a fuck or beers with my sons at a football game–but not enough to jeopardize my life.
A side benefit is: this stuff (Wellbutrin) kinda jazzes me up a bit! I mean, I feel kind of a constant postitive energy. So much so that by 9-10 at night, I’m fucking beat and yes, mercifully, can go to sleep and stay asleep (save for old-man piss sessions) until 5-6 am. I haven’t had that kind of sleep consistently in years, and man I forgot what a difference it makes.
Thanks for reading this far. Hope it was worth it!
PS: Forgot to add that I’m still on 50mg Test Prop ED and 20mg Mast Prop ED and Proviron and Cialis and Telmisartan.
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