Warning: Pathetic Prozac Punk
Warning the following blog contains scenes of high drama!
I wrote this 2 days a go when I was really quite confused and desperate. I was afraid to publish it straight away as I showed it to 2 of my friends and they both immediately phoned me worried.
Before you read on I can promise you I am ok and back to my usual chirpy self…. With just an slight under current of what you read below…….
The raw honestly you read here in my blog… is my biggest flaw. It’s what people close to me have found a problem since I was a child. It was a problem at Cbeebies and other jobs even whilst I was on Prozac. Now I’m off it, I can feel my honesty magnifying and spawning like a creeping disease … I’m becoming increasingly afraid of myself and what I might say. I’m afraid I’ll upset people. I’m afraid my reactions will be over the top…. I am terrified!
The worse thing is I don’t know whether anything I’m feeling is real. Those 15 years on Prozac have certainly knocked my confidence for judging a situation and how I ‘should’ react to it. I remember feeling like this before Prozac, like an alien who didn’t truly belong on this world and definitely didn’t understand it. I felt like I was trapped behind a wall, I could see out of that wall but no one could see me, not the real me because she didn’t and doesn’t know how to belong in this life. I became a blank canvas where people could paint their ideas of who I should be on. I thought Prozac had killed my soul but I’m starting to think I had no choice but to bury it long before Prozac skipped in to my existence.
I suppose that’s why I turned to bulimia all those years a go – it felt like something I could control but like all those ways of self medicating, bulimia, anorexia, self harm and addiction, they just end up controlling you. I suppose that’s also why I stayed in a violent relationship. It made me feel alive. Even on Prozac I’ve felt like cutting my wrists sometimes just to make sure I was ‘really’ alive….It felt like only by being close to death I could confirm my existence. Of course I know that’s ridiculous – but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit it’s danced in my head like a sinister ghost on occasion.
Before I first started taking Prozac it was like my head was a room full of messy papers piled up from the floor to the ceiling. I could never decipher anything, moods, feelings and reactions were buried deep in my mind. Then Prozac came in to my life like a clever administrator. I instantly felt like all those messy papers in my head had been filed away and in some order too. My thoughts were clearer, focused but ultimately dulled, but they were tidy. However, I realise now it wasn’t a clever filing drug. It’s actually more like when you dejunk your life, Prozac dejunked my head by chucking some vital emotions out as rubbish. My emotions were removed, not filed. They were inaccessible.
I really thought when I stopped taking Prozac that feeling wouldn’t return, I thought my head would remain in some order…. but I can tell you it hasn’t. My head is once more a room full of messy papers and this time they’ve been screwed up and trampled on too, so it feels a million times worse.
Right now I'm tired. I feel like I’m on a tightrope and if I lose concentration for one second … I’ll fall. I don’t know if that’s normal? I wish someone would define normal for me. I wish there was a measure for it, I think we’d all feel better if we could measure our normal …. I’m struggling inside but on the outside I’m trying so hard to carry on cos I know that’s all I can do. I guess the upshot of all the above is….. Deep down I’m not doing so good and I don’t know if I can push through this – I don’t even know if I want to,
I’m writing this blog and I just want to hide away. I want to run and run and never stop. I really dont want to see or talk to anyone who will be worried….I don’t want people worrying about me cos it makes me feel even more powerless and I feel guilty for not making them happy. That’s the reason I’ve had a two week break from publishing this 4th blog – I’m scared of how honest I’ll be in my writing and how you’ll all take it. Will you now all say, “Oh right, she is actually nutty and shes weak too.”
But…. when I set out to do this I promised I’d be honest, I promised I’d give a true account of coming off Prozac warts and all. Otherwise there’s no point… I’d just be an actress acting and not another lost soul trying to see if there is a way home or even a safe place to go to. Trying to reach out to others, trying to tell the truth for what it’s worth.
I’m rehearsing panto at the time of writing this. It’s funny, I smile and I try really hard to not let my battered heart show through. Can it be seen through the veneer of my Sarah Jane Honeywell smile, as I skate around playing a 2 dimensional faery … I can feel cracks appearing.
Some people in panto have read this blog and are kind in knowledge of my struggle. Others have no clue and so the Prozac curse continues… I don’t want to tell them what I’m doing, for fear they’ll think I’m attention seeking or that they’ll judge me or use it as something to bash me with. Can I tell them I’m off Prozac after 15 years and struggling for fear of being judged? Entertainers are not meant to struggle. We aren’t allowed to be human. The show must go on and I’m a dancer, I’ve been trained to make sure it does go on and everyone is happy no matter what I’m feeling. I will not fail at that!
Today I think on Prozac or off it, I’m screwed. I still have to wear the people pleasing mask so maybe it’s easier if I do it with a Prozac silenced soul. I’m not giving up yet though – I think I can make it through the current darkness. I’m still hopeful there’s a light ahead, I still believe in magic….. I just wish I could see it.
I would like to work with Jack Black