What It's Like

• Oops.  My psychiatrist didn't tell me that one reversible affect of Zoloft is memory impairment.  In the summer of my mom's decline, I watched short-termed memory turn into not remembering to care, not remembering to want to get well.  I'm having some insights into this as a result.
• The streets of Brooklyn are passable for cars but barely for foot traffic and deliveries -- or, in this case, pick up.  The sidewalks are already challenged with high heaps of crummy-looking snow but they not have several days of trash, recycling & tree corpses.  There is enough ice that Daisy has a hard time finding purchase to take a dump.  The recycling, however, never ceases to fascinate.  Champagne bottles overflow recycling cans.  "My First Harley" -- with lights, horn & whatnot -- screams TOO MUCH MONEY and TERROR ON THE PROMENADE.
• I took an odd way back from school to Times Square this morning and found a shop full of old, odd bits of sterling silver.  Also the bar when Boss #2 first pulled my hair & scuffed my shoes stamping on my feet.  This city is full of ghosts -- Dublin 1790, psychotic bosses, dwindling Christmas, high rolling days of the early 2000s, my erstwhile brain.
• I'm titrating on to Prozac.  I am stupid & clumsy & took my first spill in school this morning.  Will I sprain an ankle again?  I feel fragile.
• Monday & Wednesday class at 8 a.m.  My fellow-commuters are in Carharts & steel-toed boots.  It's refreshing.
• My nephew speaks of 2012 as being a more personal year.  I found a gluten-free pizza place, Rob.  Hurry up.
• I am tired unto death of dragging my brain, my my sadness, my body through life.  Daisy seemed pretty happy with her Uncle Gerry while I was away at Xmas.
• Prozac makes it hard to eat.
• I might catch up on bills tomorrow.  Maybe even Xmas cards.
• In the end, I couldn't see him.  We were on opposite sides of Phoenix's big valley, I can barely leave the house, & I knew seeing him would make me bawl.  Thinking of him makes me cry.  Can a heart be cauterized??
• Too much chick lit over the holidays.  It's changing over the years from goofy Bridget to Knickerbocker Wanna-bes.  
• I want to kick the city-farm/dress shop of Facebook.  I could learn German, clean my house, figure out my cameras and my iPod in three days of cold turkey imaginary living.
• I almost need to be fat to match my moods.  I'm dragging so much regret, loneliness, futility & heartbreak around that the painful pounds seem fitting.
• Or do they simply feed one another?
• Three more people died over the holidays -- two in-laws & a classmate from St. Anthony's.
• I miss K.
• Will I ever give a dinner party with my own china again??
• Can one cauterize a chronic lump in one's throat?
• Winter will get worse before it gets better.